She Doesn't Know
She Doesn't Know1 min 128 1 min 128
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.
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.