I find myself staring at
The distorted image I see of
A beautiful woman
Curved hips, high cheek bones,
Naturally pursed lips; lips that demand kisses
Eyes that tease and twist and turn
Into dark pupils that hide secrets;
Ones begging to
Be set free, if discovered by the right person
Collar bones that jut out, but not enough to make her
As thin as she desires,
Enough to suggest she forced her body to be thinner
Thin like her waist which flares in abruptly
Her back arches and tenses with simple, flowing
Movements
As if everyday life is a game of foreplay
I know her life must be godlike,
Her ******* are adequate, finely and fully
Proportioned
Legs that are strong, legs that are muscle,
Legs she is very obviously uncomfortable with
Calves that crease definitely
Coupled with the feet of a dancer
Her eyes naturally squint;
Although she is young, the creases in her
Eyes are apparent
Whether from tears or laughs I cannot tell
She is beautiful
And she refuses to see how enticing that is