love letter

I love the warm brown of your eyes with that quiet ring of green, like a strand of ivy. Or maybe it's mistletoe.
You have this LOOK you give me when you're telling me you love me--I'm not sure if you even realize it's written so plainly on your face. It just floods out of you. It's a vulnerable sort of love look; it's like possession tempered by gratitude and reverence tempered by bliss.
It's a comfortable fire.
You had this look aimed at me when you proposed, and the incredible earnestness that fills your every interaction with me was right there at the heart of it, right there in your eyes. Is it any wonder I was always going to fall into your arms, say yes, start making plans to give you everything I have?
The hardest part of loving you is knowing that I haven't earned you. There's nothing in me that sets me apart and makes me worthy of the fiery, certain love you give me. And so what can I do but set about trying to believe in things like unconditional love and forgiveness and fate? And dig my heels into loving you back as best I can, and mirroring your 'I'll never give up on you' with my own.
Believe me, there is no place in this world more suited to me than your arms, no thing more precious to me than this steady gaze of yours. You are the best man I know and I am forever grateful that out of all the girls in the world, I'm the one on the receiving end of that brown-eyed look.
This love of yours... hoo boy. It's big.