Franz Kafka didn't say, "I love you". He said, "you're the knife I turn inside myself".
And to mimic him, I want to say:
"You are the love I've prayed for my whole life, in a shape of a mortal being. But how can I call you mortal, when you had stayed in my mind longer than I could recall, living and breathing fire, melting all the awkwardness and wishless dreams."