You walk towards me, effortlessly showing how flawless you are, with the wind around you content, as if twirling to celebrate your existence. 

You’re a breathing piece of literary art and you don’t even know it. 

You remain unaware of the finesse that you hold within your silver soul and that makes you even more precious than you already are. 

You smile warmly, unaware of how beautifully contagious it is, but words remain unsaid. 

You laugh and jest and masquerade just as the class clown they call you, but you’re so much more. I long to solve the Rubik’s cube that is your intriguing mind. 

To hold you hostage, to steal your soul, to fathom and memorize every one of your hidden abstractions. 

Your diamond mind is a cauldron of philtre, a sea of compelling elixir. 

Just another draught, its all I ask for. It’s all I can’t have. 

A lyric so beautiful, a sonnet absorbing, a melody siren like, a Pied Piper’s tune.

Perhaps the sun doesn’t rise everyday to overshadow all else but you, except that it obviously does. Perhaps the sparkling crescent and the dazzling stars don’t sail across the silent night out of envy of the perfection that sails within you, except that they obviously do.

Perhaps you might not even be perfect, except that you obviously are.