Almost not a day has gone by when I have not written or talked aloud of my love for you.
You are my greatest love, without doubt, the woman I love most on the face of the earth, easily, and without hesitation.
Though the earth may be beautiful, even its lovely element is not truly worthy of being touched by your footfalls. Even its most awesome and splendorous height is laughably far from being an adequate pedestal.
I long for you with every molecule of my body and my existence.
If I were to invent a new reason to love you for each new day of the year, I would never exhaust the reasons, though we lived a while lifetime together.
I will love you, even to the end, even when it is all going past.
No words of mine would adequately describe or do justice to what you deserve. This is only my very clumsiest attempt at the expression of something which is too sublime to be truly or wholly expressed, ever. These most descriptive but wholly impoverished words flit about the subject of you like decrepit phantoms in search of home, but they cannot ever come close to the centerpoint of the concept which is you.
I love you always, my love.