You are beautiful. That is all.
Nothing much else,
as far as I can see, at least.
You should probably talk more to that effect.
Given that, you're quite happy -
although quiet, but you have a lot of fun,
which is important when you're young.
You don't look at me much, except,
for when i'm staring at you. Hoping
to get a response from those wicked
foreign eyes. Damn those gorgeous foreign eyes.
And you smile.
Turning to me with a kiss, gentle but everything,
not unlike the moonlight, sneaking above our heads.
"C3P0 is gay, for your info."
Now stop asking and let me enjoy my film.
You jot a text into your phone casually but it
makes me feel so acknowledged -
that i'm sick of being watched,
i'd much rather be sensed.
You're my next project of heartfelt honesty.
I'll never hold back from fear of sounding too forward,
if I think your body's the best I've had i'll tell you.
I'll even never fail to tell you how shit you look,
each morning. Too much?
Tell me.
Just please open your mouth, let me in to your sounds.
Exasperate me with vibrant colours and vocals,
linguistic showers of joy and thought. I know you don't mind,
because you don't wear the trousers - but for the love of life;
please just say "Yes, I do want to play the slot machine"
You're beautiful, yet slightly frustrating. And this is my honesty project.
And fucking hell you're naked in my bed, why are you still scared of things as petty as eating!?
I won't look, pinky promise. Go!
x