I'm no pretty.
At least not prettier than things I've seen through my pair of eyes.
I'm no prettier than the wild flowers I handpicked amidst my morning jog.
I'm no prettier than how the sky looks when the night falls, how it magically gradates from pale blue to yellow, then to beautiful hues of orange and purple before slowly turning completely dark.
I'm no prettier than the sunray that perfectly kisses the surface of the wide ocean, splintered among drops of waters then creating colors off its refractions.
I'm no prettier than a lot of things, but I've seen one prettier than them.
It is you who God granted beauty with, engulfing you in ways words can’t even elaborate. It’s scattered upon your face; the wrinkles forming in the corner of your eyes, the little beauty hidden under your lip, the prominence of your cheekbones whenever a smile pulls them upwards. It moves along with your steps, the crook of your arms, the blink of your eyes, the heart beneath your chest.
It is your name that I’d spell if I were asked a question, 'Pretty, what is pretty?'
Pretty is the sound of your laugh reverberating into the depth of where my heart beats. Pretty is the gleam in your eyes as they stare to the other pretty things. Pretty is the curve of your mouth, pretty is the windswept hair brushing your forehead, pretty isㅡ
Pretty is you, pretty is y o u.
