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There's a girl sitting in front of me in chemistry, with long blonde hair and eyes as pretty as a fairy. She quietly does her work, only smiling politely when her friends laugh and tell jokes. She has on the same blouse as yesterday, and I think she is beautiful.
There's a girl sitting in front of me in chemistry, with a hardened face and choppily cut hair. She does her work slower than before, not even acknowledging her friends anymore. She has on a shirt that I have never seen before, and I think she is beautiful.
There's a girl sitting in front of me in chemistry, with a army style haircut, and a slightly more relaxed face. She does her work as usual, sometimes pausing to interject with her friends. She now wears shirts and jeans instead of skirts and blouses, and I think she is beautiful.
There's a girl sitting in front of me in chemistry, who lost all her friends last week, with steel grey eyes and a face which has gone through too much. She does her work as usual, but barely talks, even when the teacher calls on her. She is wearing a jumper even in the hot summer, and I think she is beautiful.
There's a boy sitting in front of me in chemistry, who announced yesterday that he was transitioning, with a smile in his sky-grey eyes and a confident stance in his posture. He works harder than ever in class, ignoring the whispers and looks around him. He wears jumpers everyday now, and I think he is beautiful.
There's a boy sitting in front of me in chemistry, who got into a fight with three others for picking on me, with anger lining his face and a right hook that can knock someone out in an instant. He does his work in the office for his suspension, but not without pride in what he can do. He wears many patterned jumpers, and I think he is beautiful.
There's a boy who sits beside me in chemistry, who is brilliant as my lab partner, with awe in his faerie eyes and a hand which writes in sloppy shorthand. He does his work at the same pace as me, and laughs like a million twinkling stars. He is more confident to wear shirts again, and I think he is beautiful.
There's a man who sits beside me on graduation day, who worked hard enough to pursue his career as a doctor, with happy tears in the corner of his eyes and surprise all over his face as I kiss him. He will join the army in a few months, and will be positioned somewhere. He tries on his army uniform in the flat we both share, and I think he is beautiful.
There's a man who came back from six years of war, who no longer laughs like a million twinkling stars, with a stare as cold as ice and a bullet hole in his right shoulder. He visits a therapist to help with his PTSD, and reads meaningless romance novels all day. He goes back to wearing jumpers but no longer in crazy patterns, and I think he is beautiful.
There's a man who warms up a bit when newly close friends come around, who has started smiling with true intent in it and nightmares that have lessened since he first came back. He laughs along with the intern at the morgue and the Detective Inspector who always calls me to help on cases, and hugs and kisses me when we're alone. He still refuses to let me buy clothes for him, and I think he is beautiful.
There's a man who I proposed to two days ago, who has an engagement ring on his left ring finger and eyes that shine when we look at silly cat photos together. He still grins exasperatedly at me when I forget my tact, and loves to play with my hair when it's raining outside. He wears my Belstaff sometimes to irk me, and I think he is beautiful.
There's a man walking down the aisle with his sister at his arm, who has a smile like no other that I have seen before and faerie eyes that are the sky-grey colour of magic. He clasps my hands as the priest exchanges vows, and whispers 'I do'. He is wearing a tuxedo and he's crying with a silly grin on his face as we kiss, and I-
I tell him he is beautiful.