He called me beautiful, he called me gorgeous, and he called me every wonderful name under the sun. I couldn’t return the favor though, because I was in love. Most would not understand this philosophy that I have brought upon this subject, but he understands. I’ve told him more then once, that I can’t put into words how wonderful he is, or how handsome he is.

He’s perfect, okay so maybe he’s not perfect. He bites his nails, he can’t dance, he isn’t particularly good at sports, but I still love him. Someone once told me that you shouldn’t love someone for their perfections, but for their imperfections. I didn’t understand this, and thought it was a lie, until I met him.

His dark brown eyes would watch me as I made shot after shot in the state finals for basketball. Those eyes would watch me as I set the winning spike against our schools biggest rival. Those eyes would watch me as I went to win the state title for the 100m hurdles.

It wasn’t me that held the highest spark in those eyes though. He wouldn’t admit it, but if you were to put a guitar, any guitar in his hands, his eyes would shine in a way I never thought was possible. I remember one night, I was over at his house, because he wanted to make sure I was the first to hear his new song, Rochelle.

I remember how I couldn’t stop crying as soon as he hit the second verse after the chorus. It had been the best anniversary gift a girl could ever want. I miss him, and quite often I find myself crying myself to sleep, as I think of how I never see him anymore. But I’m happy for him, he’s living out his dream, he’s a famous singer.

I know I’ll never forget him, I just pray he’ll never forget me. Though I think it would be hard for him to forget me, since he sings our song at ever concert. I’m just a girl in love, with that handsome, wonderful singer, and that will never ever change.