​Beyond Comparison

Every thought of you feels like the first bloom of spring or the first snowfall in winter.

Rare. Quiet. Undeniably beautiful.

There’s something about it the way it settles in, like opening a brand new book for the very first time.

Familiar, yet entirely new.

And each time, it brings the same rush

a kind of warmth, a kind of clarity, something almost addictive.

But never enough.

There is never enough of you.

To call it beauty would almost feel like a disservice.

Even comparing you to Aphrodite falls short

because what you are isn’t just something to be seen.

You don’t reflect beauty.

You bring things to life.

And there isn’t a moment where anything around you outshines that.