All along my unconscious
has been consumed by your
beauty which is below
the threshold of my wakefulness
Yet I crave it
You're not of classical beauty
but such a timeless white Lily
whose pureness grasps the mind
And remind me that I'm alive
For its adoration, essence is not
in form but in the method
Your quirkiness captures
my infinite imagination
You keenly read the mapping
of my unrestrained tears
Your pureness lies in innocence
Mine in experience
A kind of beauty