Jacob Mark Greenwood

You’re like a god in human form, bro. I’m just a mortal who got hit by a beauty bomb.

If I had a dollar for every time I saw you, I’d be rich and hot like you.

You’re the reason I skipped my morning coffee. You’re just that good.

You’re so hot, even my dog asked me why I wasn’t married to you.

If hot dogs had feelings, they’d be crying right now because of you.

You walked in, and I forgot how to breathe. Hot dogs don’t get that kind of attention.

You’re perfect, and I’m just a mess who got stuck in your class.

You’re like a perfect pizza, and I’m just a burnt crust.

You’re the definition of perfect, and I’m just the guy who spilled coffee on his shirt.

You’re so hot, even saints are jealous of you.

You walked in, and the devil cried because he didn’t know how to handle your beauty.

You’re like a saint in a body that could make a devil cry.

You look like a god, and you act like a king. I’m just a peasant who admires you.

You’re the king of cool, and I’m just a fan who got stuck in your class.

You look like a god, and you act like a king. I’m just the guy who got distracted by your beauty.

You’re so good-looking, even saints feel guilty for being ugly.

You’re like a villain who got a makeover. I’m just a fan who got distracted by your looks.

You’re the kind of person who could make a villain proud and a saint feel bad about their appearance.