I love her.
I love everything about her.
I love her.
I love her eyes; they shine like diamonds reflecting the emerald of a shamrock field. I love her smile; angels have fallen from heaven for envy of that smile. I love her hair, coppery red that flows down her back like glittering lava giving accent to her already breathtaking form. Her every movement is poetry. Mortals walk, the goddess of my devotion glides like water across polished glass.
I love everything about her.
I love her.
I love watching her eat at the coffee house as she sips her coffee and nibbles at her roll. She even eats gracefully! What flaw could she contain? What trait could mar such perfection? I watch enraptured as she slips amongst the tables to refill her cup. She seems to shine with an inner light. She slips back and resumes her seat. The ones about her bask in that light do so with absolute rapture. The ones who sit further away look upon wistfully, dreaming as I do of being within the radius of such illumination. As she leaves with a friend, I notice that she is laughing at something they have said. I wish I could be the one to make her laugh. I wish it were me she walked with. But sadly, no, I dare not approach her. I am not worthy of her time so I can only stare like a moonstruck fool.
I love everything about her.
I love her.
I love watching her at the club. The music thumps and hums, driving itself into the soul like a tiger pouncing upon unwary prey. The dim lights hiding dark intent does nothing to diminish her inner beauty. Like a gleaming sun, she stands out among the undulating crowd. A platinum idol among pewter forms. She is dressed to kill and many fall to her deadly wiles. I watch my huntress rack up her victories from above, safe in the shadows from the pull of the crowd. The helpless lured close by her charms strive to win her favor only to be dismissed and ignored. The slink away having been found wanting. She is unrivaled, flowing to the pulse that is the heart of the crowd, more than a dance, beyond mere music. Black lights reflect on her flawless skin. Her smiles dazzle poor passersby like flashes from a camera on the unaware. Her hair swings around her face, a living thing of its own.
My angel...
My succubus...
The Virgin Mary and promiscuous Lilith...
My blood boils as she writhes to the cacophony of demons their choir crooning from the speakers of the nightclub. I MUST meet her. I must know the unimaginable bliss of her embrace. I must know the peace of surrender to her kiss. To be immolated in the flames that would be our passion. I must but I am afraid. To be spurned is to know entropy far more destructive than the decay of the grave. My boiling blood turned to ice. She smiles at me as I watch from above. Did she see me? I slip back further into the shadows. She is everything I could ask for. She is the only concept I dream of, her image has haunted my mind for weeks. I curse my cowards' heart as I seek the safety of my alcove. I must meet her. I WILL meet her. I will approach her and tell her my heart. She is my want, she is my desire, and she is my sin, the wishmaster to grant me the serenity of completeness. Almost trancelike I let my gaze follow her mercury dance through the club. I will meet her.