Hi baby. Me again, heh.

So maybe I’ve been spending a little too long staring at your pictures the last few days. Studying the way your smile lights up in the darkest of rooms, the way your entire complexion takes on a natural glow no matter where you are or what you’re doing. It has to be your selcas. Stop being so perfect, dammit. I don’t look nearly as handsome when I’m standing next to you, and it isn’t fair at all. You need to give me some of the spotlight too, you know. 

And stop laughing. I know you are, don’t even try to deny it. It’s not creepy when your boyfriend happens to like your face, okay. Like… a lot. Have I ever told you how gorgeous you were? I don’t know if you know this, but wow.. you are literally beautiful. I could stare at your face all day. I could go on forever about it. And I think I’ll do just that.

I don’t even know where to begin. I should probably start by saying how much I love that new haircut on you. Short, dark, and wispy. Just the way I like it. I love running my fingers through it in the morning; freshly washed, loose, and sometimes hanging over your eyes in a way so that I  can have another excuse to thread my fingers past your silky locks again. It definitely compliments your eyes, I think. The slightly smoother sides frame your face nicely — a flawless one, I might add. Your fringe always makes you look a little bit younger, too, but I think I prefer it pinned up, the way you do at night, when we’re cuddling on the couch and you’re in my arms. I can’t begin to describe the way my heart swells when I see you like that, the moment right before I tug you a little closer and press another kiss to that smooth, beautiful forehead of yours.

Your eyes. I think they might just be the death of me one day. Maybe the only solution is for me to go blind so you’d never have to look at me again. Haha, I’m kidding. I can’t be that stupid. I’d never be able to look at my baby’s face ever again. Though.. I think I’d be alright, even if I had to be blind. A face like yours is nothing anyone should ever forget. Sorry, where was I? Ah, yes. Your beautiful, beautiful brown eyes. They twinkle like stars when you smile, did you know that? I love that sometimes they’re dark; almost like black coffee, but on some days I look and it’s a gentler sort of caramel colour. Hazelnut, some might call it. To me, it just speaks Ilhoon. You may not say much when you’re upset, but your eyes give it away. They always do. Sometimes we’re laying in bed, you start talking and I’m quiet, not because I don’t want to talk but because I’m constantly finding myself lost in your eyes; lost in oblivion. Those large, soulful eyes that spill so much emotion; when you’re annoyed, upset, excited… in love. I know it all. I’ve seen it all. And then I realized I’ve zoned out, again, and you prod me with a grunt. I laugh, brush a hand over your cheek and tell you ‘yes’, even though that wasn’t the answer. But I have been listening. Sort of. Did I mention how much I adore your eyesmile? I’ve grown up thinking it’d be hard to find a smile that could rival mine…and then I met you. It’s not fair. Not fair at all. The way they crinkle at the corners, when you’re truly, genuinely happy; the way they sparkle with mirth when you’re bursting with good news. And then there are times when they’re lifeless; glazed over. Those times when I think I can see the secretly unshed tears that are behind those orbs, and then it becomes my responsibility to find the guilty culprit who did this to you.

Your nose; perfectly sculpted, slender; proportionally adjacent to your eyes— I mean.. yeah, pretty much flawless. I love the way it kind of extends, down from between your eyes, but almost seamlessly so; from the natural curve of your bridge and the subtle cushion at the tip. I love the way that it is almost delicately placed above the slight dip of your philtrum. It amazes me how someone could possess so, so many wonderful qualities. Even the way it wrinkles in distaste sometimes, when you’re displeased with the way something looks, is nothing short of adorable. I love how it feels when it’s nuzzled against mine; when it’s buried in my neck. It makes me all fuzzy and my toes curl just thinking about it. You, my love, are really something.

Your cheeks. Squishy, rounded, lovable. I don’t like when you’re frowning into the mirror, or when you’re grumbling about how “fat” your cheeks are because they’re not. I love every bit of you. I think I like them best when they’re cupped in my palms, or pink from my kisses. Or when they’re stone cold from when you’ve been trudging around outside on a snowy day, and then lift into an innocent grin when you blink and ask me for hot chocolate. I give in, of course, without a second thought. How could I say no to puppy eyes like that?

Oh god, and then there are your lips. Your full, plump, luscious pink lips that I can never get enough of. Every kiss has me melting; my knees get weaker and immediately has me hungering for more. I crave the very sensation of your bottom lip caught in between my teeth; the perfect set of thin, bow-shaped lips as they merge with mine; and the beautiful shade of red they turn when we pull apart breathless – shiny, swollen, and accompanied with flushed cheeks. And your smile. The way your jaw protrudes ever so slightly when you do, but endearingly so; the way it lights up an entire room and can brighten the mood of anybody who so much as glances at you. I know it does with me.

Really, I could go on. Maybe this is all going to come off biased. But I’m not going to ask who does or doesn’t agree with me. I don’t care. In my eyes you’re an angel, no matter what anybody says. You are, simply, Ilhoon.

My Ilhoon. My love.

--