i'm scared of superficial,
of materialism
uncomplicated feeling
what are you
if not arduous
so yes i stare without dialogue
yes i contemplate with my eyes
the brunette cloud atop your head
your river blue, smile-stained windows,
covered by correctional lenses
the perfect oxymoron
nothing about you needs correction
nothing about you is erroneous
even the flaws i could gift wrap,
shiny and refined.
the x-factor,
the cherry on top
of the undescribable sundae.
the vague appeal with no description
it's the allure,
the appeal,
is my moth worth your flame?
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book
Poetryi have too many thoughts it sucks that all i can do is write them down
