The Essence of Infatuation

Your soft, white skin

shines in the moonlight.

Your soft, silver hair

Gleams.

I run my fingers through your silken satiny tresses

And wonder how you ever came to be.

 

It seems that you are the essence of masculinity,

A Norse god so perfectly formed.

And I step back in dismay

As I realize my own imperfections.

 

What do I have to give you?

With your perfect form

And creative mind?

All I can say is, “please be kind.”

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