If only you could see yourself the way I see you;

the air would taste bitter, every motion that

didn’t emanate a passion for you would feel

forced and every moment would be spent

on unfulfilled wishes for your attention.

The way you walk intoxicates me,

your feet moving as if you were

oblivious to your own beauty.

There’s an innocence to you

that I want to burn away;

I want to kiss that smile

until it has meaning, to

hold that body until it

realizes what it can

do. Your curves

are equations

that I plot

in my

mind, your

eyes are dreams

I’ve held on to for

years. Your touch is

locked away under the

oldest memory I have,

a vault that I visit

when I need to

remember that

there is good

in this world;

that you are still

here, not for

me, but here

nonetheless.