I loved him.
His arms made me feel safe and protected when they wrapped around me and held me tight. His warm body was a regular comfort and I enjoyed snuggling up into him as we watched a movie at one of our houses on one of our sofas.
His eyes were like vessels for intense emotion... His gaze frequently melted my insides and rendered me incapable of coherent thought. I loved staring into them, falling in them, drowning in them. And he would stare back, looking at me like I was the only person in the universe.
His kisses made me feel incredibly special. I could always tell I was the only one for him. His tender caresses always sent thrills down my spine and profound happiness coursing through me. I fancied how I felt was similar to how a cat feels when it rolls over on the ground to rub itself against a rough surface.
His words were like silk. They ran over my ears and were always complimentary or full of that beautiful feeling which I couldn't quite believe he felt for me: love. He seldom ever grew angry at me or upset with something I had done. It seemed we were perfect for each other.
He was so fantastic that at times I doubted I was good enough for him. I often found myself thinking 'Do I deserve him?' He was heartrendingly amazing, tragically wonderful. But I vowed I would try to be good for him because I never wanted to lose him.
I believed he was the one.