She’s not the life of the party, nor is she an introverted
artistic genius.
Her eyes aren’t shocking green or piercing blue, they’re
just a middle of the road brown.
She’s doesn’t have encyclopaedic knowledge of anything, she
hasn’t mastered any obscure art, although she can bake a cake ok.
Rich, successful, stunning, famous, witty, glamorous, respected,
powerful, she’s none of these.
She’s just another face in the crowd, an unremarkable woman
in a world filled with unique snowflakes that are all special.
But she loves me, and I love her.
So she’s the most important woman in the world.
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