At the slightest shift of your hands to the unconscious curve of your lips when you suppress a smile.
And when you pout when you disagree to whatever I said.
Seeing you at those times makes my knees go weak.
Crazy at it seems, but I love it when you cry over those silly books you read when its characters die as if it’s a real person close to you.
Everything about you is perfect, more so are your imperfections.