In many a similar situations, most would argue something like ‘there are no words to accurately describe such a phenomenon’. This isn’t one of these situations. Here there are countless words to describe the beauty and elegance that emanated from her. She is poetry.
Each and every one of her movements is a heavenly dance, from a flicking of her hair to the stretching of her legs, as if performed by the most talented of angels to the melody of fairy songs.
Her stride is confident, classical. She makes heads turn. But more importantly, she makes mine spin with the forces of a thousand winds.
And just as the Medusa’s gaze will petrify you, hers will make you melt, inside and out, as if touched by the rays of all the night sky’s exploding stars. Don’t look for too long, you might lose your sense of sanity.
And her lips, of pinkish hues, plump and oh-so-kissable. Those lips that, from miles away, seem like they are calling to mine. Those lips that want no other than to be loved and rouged with passion. Crimson.
And her breasts, oh, her breasts! Divine, impossible, full, arousing… Mine.
Her whole body to caress, her voice to drink, her silhouette from a thousand dreams, her aura of fire and ice and silk, her skin of pearls, her teeth of diamonds and her soul of gold.
Love. Love is what I feel. Love is what I think. Love is what happens.
When I look at you.