You don't make me feel like Ted Danson.

Why is it that after such an eventful set of days, filled with raised glasses and passionate kisses, I am unable to explain these feelings? We toasted to new beginnings and happy endings, as we waltzed the evening away. We looked nothing short of elegant, two-stepping to the sound of cherry bombs and roman candles which doubled as the back light for our grassy dance floor.
I could study the dictionary from front to back in search of the perfect word, but I know I would come out empty. I would have to create an adjective to properly describe how perfect this is. "I love you" seems insulting, cliché, and overdone.
Your eyes lock on target like a heat seeking missile, triggering an explosion of butterflies in my stomach upon impact.