I know your life
I mean,
Your day to day life,
The things you do when you aren't doing anything
You think of me, and you're not even aware of it,
So frustrating
You think of walking along a train track that runs through farmland,
While you lay on your bed, taking photos of yourself
You -are- beautiful, yes,
So you take pictures of yourself,
Why? To prove it? To show off?
Maybe to prove it,
But to who
And I think you're aware of your own beauty
Ah, yes, to prove it to someone else,
But it frustrates you, I think,
Because everyone else knows you're beautiful too,
But it still doesn't satisfy you and you take more pictures of yourself,
I think you want someone to see something else about you,
Something that has very little to do with your deep blue eyes and your bright blonde hair and delicate features.
I saw that part of you, I think,
It drove me mad, and wrangled me into angry fits sometimes,
It's a part of you that at first, second and maybe even third glance is aggravating and maybe even intolerable,
But it's so volatile, it seeped into my skin and wouldn't let go,
And like aged whiskey it took me a moment to notice the less oblique notes,
And upon further sips of your soul the sting would reintroduce itself sometimes but would subside quicker and quicker,
And more and more I was able to appreciate the intricate flavors and tones of your mind,
And in what seems like an instant I fell in love with your biting beauty
I see you
