His friend says
He gets easily infatuated...
But it's his eyes
They see more than how her hips sway.
×
They see the way she stares
Into a blank nothingness
As she sorts her head's mess -
He loves it.
×
They see the way she smiles
And how it makes her look more golden...
More rare
More precious -
More unattainable.
He loves it.
×
He doesn't
×
Love when it turns his poetry blue
And the art his eye ranks higher
Than the Mona Lisa
Is something he'll never obtain
To hang on the wall of his mind
As someone he shared a memory with.
