beautiful

Pause.

There's something there.

Is it in their hair? Or is there something I'm not aware

of, like always, always always unaware.

Maybe I only think that I care

because I like the way they dye their hair.

I want to see something more there.

*

But.

*

They're beautiful.

*

I want to believe in every beautiful thing because I love to look at beautiful things.

*

They're charming.

This should be alarming.

These kinds of things come with the broken, then departing.

These things don't come with the love that I'm farming.

But oh, oh no, how I fear I may be coming off as a tad smarmy.

I'd hate nothing more than to concern my sweet darling.

*

They're beautiful.

*

This could go on forever and never, no, never could I

ever feel that I've wasted one moment of time

because beauty like that must naturally fly

to only the highest of mountainous highs, where heaven awaits and invites you to rise.

I feel something here, and I want to invite this otherworldly surprise

to do nothing but spend such glorious time

allowing me to decide

if this could be right.

*

Because it could be.

Right?

*

They're just so beautiful.

and I'm just so scared.

*

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,

and I, at this time, am the only one to behold,

for no one else could gaze upon this and see the same beauty that's clearly been promised to me.

Only my eyes were created to love every inch of this painting turned beautiful love.

Such a beautiful love.

I want it all for me.