What is he? Your boyfriend?

You’re a child. An infant. Your mocking is thus infantile.
He’s not my boyfriend. This man is more to me than you can dream. He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness and warmth when I shiver in cold.
And his kiss still thrills me, even after a millennia. His heart overflows with the kindness of which this world is not worthy of.
I love this man beyond measure and reason. He’s not my boyfriend.
He’s all and he’s more.

You’re an incurable romantic.