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