She is human, a flawed being
which is inclined to make alot
of mistakes, her cravings incite
her to act so often out of place,
she feels insecure at times too
and tends to look in a mirror for
errors to ensure she's presentable.

Her persona isn't a mystical fairy
embodiment your wishes make,
nor are her dimples snow flakes
drowning sincerity with embrace
which easily make man gravitate.

She is trauma filled to an extent,
seeping in sorrow few relate to,
those curves she carries around
may not even appear as tasteful
but the ***** she has pumping
blood through her veins is worth
more than what an oyster creates.

There's an aura about you which at first glance appears to be quite powerful, so brilliant but broken... Those shards are like pearls scattered across a shore, something incredibly alluring and still only produced through extreme pain, the oysters are yours. Clammed to protect that much valued jewel, few may understand those scars to your beautiful.

As pretty as she may be,
in this world there are many
who are equally just as lovely,
some may even have a distinct
characteristic as sweet as honey,
they're probably more distinguished
too with a charismatic aura so funny
people gobble up every word ever said
but none pulls me into the sacred entry,
where scrolls of pure devotion are read.

Beautiful you are, a pretty shower.
You wash away all the dismay,
so gentle you are with me, falling
each day so that we may meet
even if our river runs dry you peak
at a point that touches rain's feet.

Surrounded by birds and tree's,
an atmosphere with calm scenery
and yet still your eyes pour down
drowning like a pool of love only;
upon me.

A heart has been calling out,
waiting, wondering, shall it be
heard, though covered by rubble
of an abandoned house, ripped
apart, hope now lies steadily for a
touch, a sign of someone to notice
the urgent need for it to be lifted up.

It is like knowing someone like the back
of your hand, seeing pores and follicles
no one is able to glance at, only to get
kept at a length further than arms stretch, a place inbetween hugs and hand shakes.

I'm a product of where I've been,
what I said, what I've seen, all the
expectations in daylight that I dream.    
I've sold myself a chance at a reality
to achieve, everything I know I can be.