She is Beautiful

She is beautiful.
More than this word spoken from my mouth or written by my hand has ever expressed before, she is beautiful.
She is flawless, at least to the degree that even her flaws are beauties in of themselves.
I love her. I love many things, but my love for her rises far above that of my love for even my family, my art, or myself.
I adore and admire her. When her body lays beside mine I feel with my hands her smooth skin and her flowing curves.
I know her body by memory, every curve, every dimple, every inch.
It is her face I see when I close my eyes. Her beautiful lips just beneath her adorable nose and memorizing eyes that are almost hidden by her slightly tinted hair.

After six months she seems distance, a coldness towards me. A worse feeling in my gut I have never felt, even upon the death of my close friends and family. None of the hundreds of films I have watched could prepare me for this.
I tell her I agree that we have become too attached, but I am lying. I only say what I need to so that I may wake up to her warm body next to mine as many more mornings as possible.
I say that I understand, but I am lying. How can she be so quick to end something that up until now has brought us both more happiness than I have ever witnesses.
Is she afraid? She is afraid that she cannot be independent. She is afraid of what she is told comes with love. Everything around her tells her that she needs to be free of attachment, she needs to have fun, that to enjoy life she can't be attached to another life.
I couldn't disagree more. I am surrounded by the same ideas and was once a firm advocate of the fallacies of love and emotions, but now enjoying anything without her makes it less meaningful. I try to understand, but I can't.

Perhaps we met at the wrong time. Perhaps if we were older; if she was more mature. Perhaps it would then last forever. Or perhaps not.

She is my beauty. She is my muse. She is my love.
I will do everything in my ability and beyond that of my ability to hold her for just one more night. Then just one more after that until I can make it last forever.
To be able to run my hands along her curves and feel her beauty in the dark. To meet her lips to mine one last time. To whisper "I love you" and to tell her the only thing that I still understand.
She is beautiful.

Word Count: 460