Beauty in hazel

the him I learned to love

His favourite weather is rain.

he liked walking in it, and longed for the feeling of the cold droplets hitting the top of his head. 

His favourite colour is red, not the red you see in shop windows come February, but the deepest shade of red, blood to be exact. 

When you told him he had pretty brown eyes he would assure you they were hazel.

they sparkled in the light, and gave off just enough reflection that I could see myself smiling back at him, oh I love him.

His hair was every colour you could think of, but only in the right lighting, and the hair that grew on his face was a light brown but i seldom saw it because he knew how much I hated it when it touched my face. 

His shirts neve4 fit quite right because his hips cave in at the perfect spot for my hands. 

His laugh felt like music and would send shivers down my spine 

He was more than a pinterest aesthetic, he was so angelic doing the smallest things like brushing my hair behind my ears with his fingers, or the way he kissed the top of my head, which overtime became increasingly easier for him as he grew taller than me. It never bothered me because eventually his chest lined up perfectly with my ear, just in the right spot to hear his heartbeat, 

his magical heartbeat.  

My reminder that my favourite thing was living and breathing, growing and changing in the most beautiful of ways. 

He was perfect, just the way I met him, and so different from that day at the same time.