The world. Is an empty canvas. And you are the artist. Leaving your mark all over. As you move your hands across the empty plane as if your fingers were a ballerinas feet.
The world. Is full of many smiles. But none compare to yours. If you were to smile at an ocean in rage, you would calm it immediately. The waves would slow down. And return to gracefully kissing the beach like it did once before.
The world. Has many voices. That sing so many different songs. But your song is my favorite. The way your voice could soothe a crying baby and lull them to sleep.
The world. Is full of words. Words that have been repeated, or only said once. But none are like yours. Your vocabulary is beautiful. Even if you don't speak the most abstract words.
The world. Is full of people. Some pointless. Some important. I'd like to think that I am one of the important people. But so does everyone. We all know deep down that there is a possibility that we aren't. But when I am with you. I feel like the most important in the world. The most special.
My world was an empty canvas. Full of smiles, voices, words and people. It was a canvas waiting to be painted by your smile. Your voice. Your words. You. And I am so glad I waited. For an artist as skilled as you. You became my world. Painted by everything that is beautiful and good.