And then I grew up. And I realized:
Beauty is not about facial symmetry, lip volume, or the perfect color of the curtains to match your eyes.
It's a look that suddenly makes you want to straighten your back.
It's a smile that you fall into, like a trap, but don't want to get out.
It's two cups of coffee in the morning and a silence that's cozy.
It's you, sitting across from me, and your gaze, in which I see... well, maybe even more than you know.
Sometimes I catch other people's glances - some run past like a shadow, while others seem to linger a moment longer. And then an inner voice sounds in your head:
"Oh, now this is dangerous..."

I believe that you don't fall in love with a face, but with a person.
But still... it happens that someone looks at you as if you are the most beautiful story they have ever read. And then you start to shine. Not from the mirror. From him.