You're beautiful.
I know it,
But you scowl at such an audacious remark,
How can you see yourself so ill-favored?
The way your face lights up as I approach your stunning features,
Perhaps the world is blind and I am the only one whom sees this unworldly phenomenon,
You still disagree with me, no words, a shake of the head,
I will capture this verdict,
I promise,
Your beauty is complexive,
One glance and the camera in my mind grasps every pixel of your flower,
You duck and cover at the sight of a lense,
Photo albums make your heart vanish,
But why?
You're gorgeous.
I know it,
You don't trust my honesty,
But, you see, I do not intend on settling for a loss, a tie is still a loss,
Those conditioned strands of silk compliment your sky blue eyes, so bright to a squint,
You look away from admirerers,
You isolate yourself from face,
Why?
You're a rose.
I know it,
But why can't you see what I see?
Please,
Take my outstretched hand,
Don't hide from marble puddles,
Don't scratch or splash away your reflection,
You frown at the sight of a passerby, taking in the world,
But again I ask,
Why?
You're Monroe.
I know it,
You actually consider believing it,
Trust me,
These words write for a wild purpose,
You give me reason to touch graphite to this linear plane,
Lined with veins for you,
Don't be nervous,
Look here,
Into my eyes,
Look deep into the black abyss that holds space for you,
Only you,
You're beautiful.
I know it,
No more questions, your heinous?
I smile,
You blush.