I wish I could describe you with words.

I wish I could tell you just how beautiful you really are.

But, like before, you just called me a hopeless flirt,

then you laughed sadly, and it broke my heart.  

 

You aren’t the beauty of a Shakespearian play

Even they could be lowered to jewels or stars.

And no woman, child, man, person or angel could have one fraction of your clumsy grace,

He’d never have been able to describe ultimate beauty, you raised the bar.

 

You aren’t 'pretty’. Your beauty is the kind that people have to stop for.

Miss America still can’t hold a candle to you-

Your hair is like light copper and gold, and when you smile your eyes glint like steel polished for hours.

But even saying you rewrite perfect, it does you no justice, truly.

 

Your laugh, it’s even more impossible,

Sometimes it’s a chuckle, or twinkling bells when you are so inclined.

The best is the reckless, wild, unrestrained guffaw- its unstoppable-

And when you giggle, it’s a cross between  angels’ song and a chime.

 

I’d need a world of paper and limitless ink to describe you,

your personality astounds me,

How can someone so amazing, so honest and true,

lie to herself about her beauty?

 

Afraid of the dark, but with courage abounding,

A voice raspy and harmonious, smooth and rough all at one time,

So excited and joyful, sanity so grounding,

And your smile- a little uneven, but perfectly you- is sublime.

 

Meg, you are the cold beauty of a black hole and the warm glow of a fire in a single glance,

You are the sun and the moon, everything beautiful in the sky,

Against him, I know I don’t stand a chance,

But if it’s for you, I’ll find the courage to try.