She was the my first crush.

I could never tell her.

I was only ever able to be in her presence, I was happy there, but never satisfied.

Her laugh was lighter than the dandelions being blown in the wind and her smile was like the first light of the morning. She was good and honest and true and so wonderfully and imperfectly beautiful. Not beautiful in the most thought of sense, but she was beautiful to me.

I loved her short botched job of chopped off hair and her bright green braces, I loved her piercing's that weren't symmetrical and her quirky charisma. I loved the fact that she was so adamant on protecting the environment, yet would continuously forget to take the bottle caps off of her bottles before recycling them. I loved how she would stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves and would always be the first to welcome new people. I love how she had no idea that when she chewed her pencil it drove me nuts because it's so bad for the teeth... but I was never able to bring myself to tell her. I loved her belly she had and was never worried about, I loved how she loved herself.

She was beautiful to me.

But I never did tell her.