I sit and drown myself in these lovely thoughts that simply contradict themselves. I’m sure enough that my existence is far from good enough for her perfect life. She’s certainly flawless and I’m only a hopeless romantic locked inside love’s sanctuary. She seems benevolent, and these theories of mine aren't compatible. They might be, but then again it wouldn't make a difference. I see her intentions, and her breed is out of this world. I would be overly blessed if I had the opportunity to place her upon my palms and cherish her imperfections. It’s definite though, that something similar to that would be impossible. She’s too perfect; her light skinned tone just illuminates the atmosphere in an instant. Her long, messy hair slithers down in perfection as those thick dreamy eyes of hers emphasize with curiosity. I observe carefully, not knowing whether to approach kindly or simply evaluate. Either way, it all still feels like a fantasy. She’s definitely a monster… mesmerizing and profound. She seems lonely at times, but she seeks respect and affection more than anything. She might be sexual deep inside, she might’ve made mistakes and screwed up here and there; but she’s only human. A perfect human for that matter, at least through my eyes. It feels like a lovely euphoria though, perhaps I’m only in a sudden illusion and she’s simply a kind ghost floating through these bloody vessels of mine. I see nothing but ecstasy when I visualize her concepts. She seems near mythical, to be honest. I feel like, I could cross her path a thousand times and not once would she notice or at least think of turning her head to examine the situation. I would be a simple ghost. Not indicating that she’s stubborn enough not to acknowledge a kind, curious individual that someday hopes to know about her on the inside. Her views her goals, her fears and her interests. How she laughs and what runs through her mind before she falls asleep. What she cares about and what makes her truly happy. But, deep down she will always be nothing more than a spirit to me. Flying over the blissful oceans of my conscience. And, in my mind? She sits there, peaceful and patient as she seems… contemplating upon my values and investigating every last bit of me. I wonder why she flaunts so heavily. She’s exquisite and I’m certain of that. It’s indulging as well how she illustrates love letters amongst me whenever her glorious smile gazes at the universe. It’s so, appealing indeed. She carries herself very well. And that certainly speaks very highly of her. She speaks with such enthusiasm; I can’t help but glance and lose myself inside her inner beauty. She’s mesmerizing. And I suggest every individual stop and kneel at her feet whenever she passes by. In my pupils, she is a goddess of endearment. Her love is generous and not one ounce of it is overbearing. It’s ironic though, how she can be alive in the depths of society, but seem unreal through the eyes of a visionary. I’m sure it’s perfectly normal of me to identify her as a mystery, in a sense of figuring her out, as well as her views and her visions. Whether she’s real or not, I’m sure she is but perhaps she’s not?
