A/N: I have noticed that there is something of a rift developing between Cosmo and Wanda, and it's breaking my heart. So I wrote myself a little hope... Cheesy much? You better believe it, bucko. -Sky.

It is love that makes this fool of me. I know that as true as any other. It is love that causes me to stumble, as is the strength with which it distracts me. It is always there, in the back of my mind. It keeps me going, keeps me smiling. It is love that makes me forget my lines; it is love that forces me to make up my own.

Would I live without it though? Never. I couldn't. I need it there to save me from myself; the world needs it to stay alive. Such an important emotion is love and such a complex one as well. Hate, desire, passion, romance; all can be spawned from love. Love in its truest form however is the one I am showered with, and for that I am eternally grateful. I am always grateful that she came into my life.

She is beauty. Pure and simple. She is the sun that lights my life, she is the reason I wake every day. She is the one that makes me feel lighter than air with the smallest of breaths, she is the one whose affection for others warms my very soul. She is amazing, she takes my breath away. Every night I take the time to watch her sleep beside me, and I whisper quiet thank yous into her ear. Thank you for keeping me safe, thank you for keeping me warm... thank you just for keeping me.

I remember how it was without her, a memory I do not joy to recall. My days felt so empty, my life felt so sheltered. The day I learned what love is was the day that I became aware of the gaping hole in my heart, the void that only she can fill. I remember thinking, as I slipped that gold band onto her dainty finger, that she could do so much better than me. There was someone out there who really deserved a woman as breathtaking, as amazing, as good and as kind as she more than I ever could, and I feared that one day she would find him. Then I would be alone again, wishing my true love would come home to my arms once more.

As we laid side by side on our wedding night, she whispered the same fears of me into my ear. I kissed her and assured her there could be no other. And now as I sleep beside her, I can tell her the same things. When she sleeps, I do not worry about slipping up, I tell her everything. It never comes out like I want it to, but it's there, and it's said, and then I can finally rest.

When the daylight comes I know it will start all over again. I will resume my foolish ways, ever the jester, just to bring a smile to our godchild's face. It is the love I have for him, no, the love we have for him, that makes him smile. I can see it in his eyes. A prank here, an imbecilic comment there, she frowns at me through them all, but the fondness never leaves her gaze. Though she may not approve of our immature ways, we both know she wouldn't change us for the world.

It has never been easy for me to tell her these things. When the time comes for the words to leave my mouth I just can't push them past my teeth. I want to, oh, how I want to, but I just can't say these things to her perfect eyes. I pray that she knows them already, that my night time ramblings get through to her on some subconscious level. I beg her to know how I feel about her.

Lately, it feels as though I have not been clear enough. She feels further from me some days, her mind is elsewhere, and I want to pull her back to me. Return her to my side, hold on to her for dear life. She can't leave me, she just can't; I have no idea what I would do with myself. I know she loves me, I am certain of the fact, and though she knows I love her I don't think she knows exactly how I feel.

Does she know how I couldn't face the day without her, how I need her there to stop me from going too far? Does she know how beautiful she is when she's angry, how the sparkle in her eyes is all I need to make me smile? Does she know how adorable she is when she wakes in the morning, and how irresistible she is when we go to bed at night? Does she know how she is the only woman in the world for me, and, above all, how I have never fallen for someone so deeply?

It's so difficult for me to say these things to you, so very hard. I fear there will not be enough conviction in my voice to get my point across, not enough fancy words in my vocabulary to decorate my sentences. I don't have it in me, the eloquence with which poets speak, and if I do I know not how to express it. I will learn though my dear, for you I will find a way. One day I promise to tell you that every day I am thankful you are my wife Wanda.

And I am so in love with you.