A picture of you

You are the kind of beautiful that makes poets hate their pens. How can words ever capture… what the universe took its time to create?…… You are the kind of light that outshines the morning sun, a warmth that stays long after the stars have sung their final song. You are the hush before a storm, electric, wild, and infinite— the kind of wonder that makes time pause, breathless in your presence. How can ink hold the fire in your eyes, or paper mirror the rhythm of your heart? Even silence speaks your name in echoes, and the wind hums your melody to the trees. If I could steal the sky for you, I'd lace it with golden threads, but even then,… it would pale against your glow.