There are things that I think that I need
and things that I think I need but I actually just selfishly crave.
I don't know if it is the first or the latter, but I just want you to look at me.
Not just a passing glance, but really look at me;
see me for what I am and what I have to offer.

Look at my freckles and see more than freckles.
See the rain drops on the pavement,
the constellations and music notes.
Read my cheeks like sheet music.
Create a symphony out of those brown spots that all other men see as ordinary.

Touch my skin.
I never use enough lotion.
Do I need it?
Of course not.
My skin is softer than a mothers breast,
It can soothe you like cashmere.
It could ignite a hunger in you like the fuzz on a peach.
Take a bite.
I taste delicious
I know it.

But you don't know it.
You're starving and you don't even realize it.
You wouldn't know a good thing if it fell from heaven and hit you
square in the face.
I could be worth a million dollars,
I could be a movie star,
and still you would walk by like I am plain as a white  brick wall with not an ounce of graffiti on it.

See me.
Let me in.
Let me fill you up,
let me call you home.