but I don't write about you anyless.

I want to touch you
but,
I can't
feel you.

I want to tell you everything I feel
but,
you won't hear me.

I want to taste your lips
but,
I can't see them.

I want to call your name
but,
I don't remember it.

I want to be with you
but,
you don't exist.

She is the first girl
I've ever looked this way
and I find it so hard
not to look at her.

I can't decide what I like the most about her.
I love her eyes.
They're so close to each other, in a funny yet adorable way.
That big and dark brown pair. Oh, it's my favorite.

And the way her hair brings that shape to her face
just makes that doll-faced appear in my thoughts.
I don't really like her hair. But that I want to run my finger through it...
                                                           ­                                       yes, it's true.

Even her giving name agrees she stands out.
Too bad she prefers to call herself another name
but, at least there's someone
who enjoys
pronouncing it.

                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                     d.g

Gazing into her crystal eyes
not a glimpse of light
in her pale illustrious orbs
her couture matched
the threads of a goddess woven by silk
never has the world heard such a harmonious voice
her hair as black and glossy
like raven feathers
a frame so divine
complexities came to mind
that god himself was almost unable to
carve a radiant smile as glimmering
her soft skin made her known
as the temptress of the night
her sweet mouth sang of hymns children slept too
the curvature of her chin wickedly attractive
following the course of her smile to her rosy cheeks
the ring on her finger is one of saturns
the hue from her lips are as red as foxes
burning with infinite intensity.

Her pale forehead knew every answer in the universe
the glow between her eyebrows majestic
her third eye spoke of exquisite beauty
holy light was her aura
angels danced around her
shrouding her body with stardust from the heavens
butterflies applied her makeup
whenever she arose from her chrysalis
revolving the world on her throne
without a bead of pressure to perspire
her vocals an instrument to my heart
listened to with wild passion
luster from her skin expensive as gold from India
her existence was solace
for rational reasoning alone
unflawed her lips reached mine
under the eclipse
the shadow of my phantom
caressing her hips
my wild craving tasting
what it it truly means to be in love.

The orchestra of her movement
can save a man from death
her words whispered to me like rhinestones
the touch from her waxy hand
trembling across my stature
cracking, shaking
with electricity at every fiber
pulsating from my heart to hers
capsizing from secrets dripping in my ear
she treats me to more wine kisses
traces of her ruby red lipstick
on my chest
her lofty thoughts completed mine.
the golden trim of life
seen throughout the land.