All they see is your beauty,
truly undeniable—
none could ever disagree:
you are.
Your quirk fascinates the curious,
your smile brings with it
the same light
to others who have none.
Yet all they notice is the visible.
Only a few truly see the invisible.
But as impossible as it may be,
I see beyond all of these.
It isn’t your beauty, nor your soul,
that makes you angelique.
I just…
You may not believe it,
but whenever I see you—
fleeting moments of stolen glances,
scarce pictures stretched across eternity—
truth be told,
no one else notices it:
you are glowing.
I may not be blinded by it—
but you are.
And you are the sun
I’d rather go blind with.
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