Poet, The

Picture you - dark & virile

Scathing with those eyes, 

Irises as deep as two oceans

Curls of your hair, grab-worthy 

Tall & shoulders wide 

Yet, not too wide 

You could shrink with need, if you like

Cheeks shining like honey

With a mind between those ears

Which can think endlessly, deeply 

Leaping to & from fantasy and reality 

But let's forget your mind

And focus on your chin, for tonite

Your grin, honest, your nose bulbous yet sharp

Things you wear

Your shoes - are so fun

Pretty sure, your socks are mismatched too

Your sweaters are perfection

Carrying colors in rows

So Christmasy - against a grey you

And pants, tall endless black pants 

The way you sit

Rather, perch

Distant, introverted, distinctly self-possessed

And how you stand-

Hands locked behind your back 

Leaning on various walls

Hair waving in salty sea breezes 

I will leave your lips out

Precisely since words fail me, here

Your breath, I imagine must be always moist

Warm, with the exhaust of multitude of intellectual quests in your chest 

And your chest, sometimes shirted

But mostly shirtless, with earphones plugged in