I wonder if he knew that I was watching him,
the way he strolled around the room in his stylish
clothes, the swag in his stance when he was surrounding
me, his silly smile that cracked me up all the time, the tinges
of his skin tone.  

I’m lost at the mere sight of his flawless frame,
how his dreads hung below his head, the way his bulging muscles
escaped out onto the exterior surface of my skin, the dexterity and
complexity he possessed within.

There was a synchronized pattern sifting in the air around me pointing the way towards inner drums rumbling in his heart, as I sunk deeper into his world.  I could hear the musical symphonies blazing the nighttime extravagance, my eyes mesmerized and shimmering, glowing like oil slicked portraits.

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the orchestration of his jaw and lips, how it was crafted to perfection, how its detailed depiction led up to the arch of his nose and chiseled cheeks, the way his dark brown eyes were perfectly positioned to excellence.  

I continued to observe the flex of his biceps and triceps, how they seemed to create various worlds of imagination, how if I could touch them, they would spark a new life deep into the interior of my soul.  His strong knees were on the tip of my tongue, the striking shape of his head was caressing on my chest, the smoothness of his back spine was hypnotizing my mind.  

The more I studied his frame, the further I saw how distant we were from each other, how his immeasurable features were far out of my reach, how his inner soul began to pull away from mine with heavy repulsion, how I tried to cling to his surface, but everything was rapidly fading away into closed doors.