"do you think im pretty?" she asked me.
to this day, i never understood that question because a million times before i told her how beautiful she was. she was more than beautiful though. everything that she was, was built of a goddess.
i admired her. adored her even. when she listened to my stories she listened as if my words were like smooth honey that dripped from my lips or something she should've been worshipping. she listened to me and even though she couldn't see me, i knew she saw me.
i remember she'd sigh and sit up, her long brown hair mixed with dirt and grass. she turned to me, moving her hand out to touch my face. "well? do you?"
and in response, i'd laugh. her question was silly because she was the only girl that i could ever call beautiful. "you're beautiful Genevieve, so beautiful in fact, that i'm completely and utterly in love with you."
"you've got a heart of gold and everyday i fall deeper and deeper in love with you."
she didn't believe me.
i couldn't blame her but,
little did she know, i told the stars about her.