he is beautiful.
i would say perfect, but no one is perfect, and so is he, and that makes him a perfect human being.
he walks, and moves, like a cat.
there is a quietness about him, surrounded by the intensity and busyness of thoughts overlapping.
his voice, and his laugh, sound like the sound of bubbles from the falling of river water, fragile and feminine, with masculine echo.
he is slim, very slightly wiry with veins.
he is tall, and he is light footed, and he is aged with purpose.
he smells of... baby powder, a very thick blanket of baby powder.
his soul is youthful, his mind quick.
he looks... trapped. i do not know what from, who from, whence.
there is an indecipherable deepness to him, that i would love to dive in, if he would let me.
there is a hunger in his eyes, in his being. searchlights, dimming and brightening.
there is a veil over him. i have only seen it, heard it, lifted a few times.
i... i do not know what makes this man.
i have no history, no background, no facts, to base on.
i only have whispers, gossips. i think i trust my eyes more.
all these things, and all these notions, mixing and building an image that is either too vague, or too clear.
i do not know whether to accept these things, or to justify his being and create another image of him, a more accurate one, as based on what i see.
but i cannot see with clarity.
i cannot see with clarity when my eyes are covered with affection.
i cannot see with clarity when i am veiling my own eyes.
and mostly, i cannot see with clarity, if the man himself, hides.
i would say perfect, but no one is perfect, and so is he, and that makes him a perfect human being.
he walks, and moves, like a cat.
there is a quietness about him, surrounded by the intensity and busyness of thoughts overlapping.
his voice, and his laugh, sound like the sound of bubbles from the falling of river water, fragile and feminine, with masculine echo.
he is slim, very slightly wiry with veins.
he is tall, and he is light footed, and he is aged with purpose.
he smells of... baby powder, a very thick blanket of baby powder.
his soul is youthful, his mind quick.
he looks... trapped. i do not know what from, who from, whence.
there is an indecipherable deepness to him, that i would love to dive in, if he would let me.
there is a hunger in his eyes, in his being. searchlights, dimming and brightening.
there is a veil over him. i have only seen it, heard it, lifted a few times.
i... i do not know what makes this man.
i have no history, no background, no facts, to base on.
i only have whispers, gossips. i think i trust my eyes more.
all these things, and all these notions, mixing and building an image that is either too vague, or too clear.
i do not know whether to accept these things, or to justify his being and create another image of him, a more accurate one, as based on what i see.
but i cannot see with clarity.
i cannot see with clarity when my eyes are covered with affection.
i cannot see with clarity when i am veiling my own eyes.
and mostly, i cannot see with clarity, if the man himself, hides.
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