when i saw you at the coffee shop, i forgot to breathe. for a moment. my god, you are beautiful. especially your eyes. and your dark dark blonde hair. and your hair band with the paper rose. purple and flaky. crisp and pressing. i want to touch it. and your ironed peplum at the edge of your crisp gray dress. bordered with black and a gentle creme. black buttons, bold. gold ornaments and a silver skull. rhinestone rings and dangling tassels. little hoops in shades, bouncing against the gentle curves of your shoulders. you are sitting at the table, across from me. talking to who appears to be a close close friend. very understanding, very supple, very gentle and cheery. her hair is red, like her eyes. sipping cups of iced latte. and i can't help but keep staring at your eyes. they are beautiful. they are violet, like the flower on your hair. i want to say, you look sassy, you are staring at me and smiling. you are moving back and forth, your fists clenched, your fingers painted a deep gorgeous crimson. and your shoes, so so beautiful. they are black with pieces of glass in ovals sown. they dazzle against the sun, twinkle in the rain and buzz with fragrance. your head shake gentle. your arms, so smooth. an orange ring. a yellow purse. a mustard toe. if only through the purple of your beauty, you could see the world. perceptible, more than tactile. peppered across your fashion conscience, your apparent insecurity, i wish you could see. your own beauty. with in and with out.
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