When I say I love you, I love you wholly and tragically. I love the sincerity in your smile, the way the ends of your lips lift up, and how that could drastically change into a broken frown, a grim line, quivering and shaking. I love the crinkling of your wonderful eyes, as it glistens with your illuminating joy, and I love it still, even when the tidal waves come rushing out, leaving nothing more but a jaded expression and a dull gleam in those once shining orbs. I love the timbre of your speech, the melodic values of your voice, how it leaps from tone to tone, akin to a symphony, and how it trembles and shakes with dissonance whenever you are distressed.

I love the soft pitter-pattering of your feet, the music your feet create when you walk; I also love your retreating figure, your slouching form, the way it fades with the distance as you walk away from me. I love you so much I think I need you. I love you so much I want to be the ideal of image of beauty you were looking for. I love you so much I think I don't need you. I love you so much I could throw away my silly desires for more and be happy with nothing more. I love you so much, but I need more. I love you so much, that I can't love you so much.