Others willed, “Please turn,” no need to self-affirm.

The perfect person seen from afar,
Your olive complexion.
At the bar, is that a shiny or cheap rental car?
Deepening my own self-introspection.

Tits aplenty
In that herringbone
form-fitting white and cream dream
That skirt, for me, my dear—that is a dessert.

Your beautiful, unfiltered nature.
By my scans, oh so perceivably captured.
The answer to my own imperfect seek.
Cured when I laid eyes upon your perfect physique.

Your hair.
How does it cascade that spiral stair?
The perfection of curl
Drawing, luring the world.

Eyes, piercing with warmth.
Don’t others perceive your steely self-worth?
Confidence, consciousness, and willingly exuding worldly accomplishments.

Oh, how I yearn.
To descend deep into your….
Soul,
Descend deep into your heart.
Fucking pierce through your luscious defenses.

Jesus! My friend. Your ass.
Framed like an hourglass.
Oh, how I dream of leaning on and edging in
Descending deep, a caterpillar’s creep.
Till these balls slap at your heaven’s door.

Do others not see
Your beauty, lovingly set free?
Their filter is set on fake, with far too much skin-deep intake.

Tell you what, though.
I’m falling short of prose.
To me, you are a beautiful rose.
More on that in a following stanza.
For that will be my final bonanza.

My settings for you cut through the slew.
Your hair, your eyes, your warm, slender thighs.
Your laugh, your jest, your interest in zest.

Your laugh.
It talks.
Speaks all kinds of sorts.
It cuddles me, swaddles me, and makes my heart flutter.

Your filter.
Uncut.
A surgeon’s scalpel, it dissects the heart.
Your laugh tears me apart.

Did I mention the rose?
And your beauty, nay pose?

Please! Shuffle my deck. Cut my cards.
Out it comes, queen of my hearts.
When or how can I compete?
With the beauty you bring to my undeserving feet.

Oh my.
Now, a well-deserved sigh.

Now, how can I earn the attention I yearn?
You’re scary. You’re perfect.
So deliciously worth it!

Strap on your shoulder so fine,
How does it look like it’s off by design?

Who else makes such innocuity?
Look so damn fucking foxily?

Others don’t see! Fool them for switching.
From beauty to filter, now I get to see your inner kilter.

My feelings for you.
Oh, so heartfelt,
But just a little more, with this pen tipped by felt.

You don’t want to hear it.
But you ARE beautiful.
You ARE loved.
You are MORE than enough.

You’re different.
Embrace it.
That’s daring.
The only person you need to impress.
Is the one who joins you for every breath.

To someone. My friend:
You are the strap on the shoulder.
The hair down the stair.
The look from afar.
From the person at the bar. Oh, you’re intimidating.
You are.

I guarantee others hope to catch your eye.