Cerulean eyes glare with
passion. Bleached threads
dangle from a
sun-kissed scalp.

Intensity holds a
stare atop a soft smile
which hides a full, toothy
laugh inside
for fear of
becoming vulnerable.

Could I ever
satisfy? Could I conjure
that smile?
Have I merely formed
my own idea of
who and what
she is?
I make assumptions of what
she wants, how
she sees the world, what
makes her truly
special.

by Erik Shinker