She Doesn't Know

I write a poetry of her

Of when I first met her,

She was a little bit cunning cute

Still I was attached a bit more.

And now

After 9 years of endless exile,

I am completely crazy on her

I don't think that she knows.

She talk I can't help

But watch her Lips,

To notice the shapes and curves

Of her jult Lips.

The mole on her Lips

Are too deep and bright,

They makes me completely crazy 

And I can't help of myself.

I just want to Kiss her

Gestures of her lips carry treasure,

A deep Kiss of her

Can reveal so mysteries of her.

Nothing to say of her eyes 

They are fully drunk,

I just want to sink there

As much as deep I can.

Her silky hair residing at her shoulders

Of her flawless body,

They are too drunk 

Of her despotic beauty.

I just want to squeeze her fuzzy cheeks

She blushes when she gazes,

Her expressions are fascinating 

Passion, thrilling, yet ravishing.

Her voice makes me drunk 

Not as a wave of Ocean,

Her words doesn't always matter

Only her voice that matters and dwells.

Her smile makes me moody

Her beauty is doorway to her Heart,

It's a little bit ironical 

I don't know a bit about her Heart.

The beauty of her

Must be seen by her,

I know it's ironical 

But she doesn't know where her beauty stands.

I don't know 

When my feelings got too deep,

From a friend to crush

I don't think I'll tell to her.