The Prettiest Words I've Ever Met

Eunoia,
she passes by me,
her mind overflowing with beauty,
her thoughts an endlessly expanding painting,
one only she will ever get to see.
Kilig,
I see her and the butterflies start once again,
racing through my gut,
that magical effect,
which she will never know she caused.
Marahuyo,
my gaze refuses to leave his face,
so I stand with the others,
enchanted by each and every part of him.
Saudade,
his back is turned to me,
but I feel his sorrow none the less,
his presence bringing a sense,
that he is a forgotten memory of mine.
Logolepsy,
he speaks to me,
his sentences forming dancers above his head,
the words he uses,
being known to no one but himself.