She looks so gorgeous. She is a heartbreak form a Shakespearean play, a lullaby in my head telling me its alright. She is a beautiful poem, a reminder to check in to the chiropractors because I simply could not wrap my head around her ethereal beauty, and so, I, Brian Shaw, broke my neck trying to look at her just a little closer. She is an A-lister. A girl that owns beauty no English dictionary could define. And today, I looked over at her and she glanced back. Awesome, right? But could a absolute dork like me be liked by her? Is my yearbook photo appealing to the modern eye? Answer to both of them is prolly not.

Her alluring verdent orbs are as clear as crystals

Her flaxen hair like tendrils dancing alongside the vehement wind

Her delicate fair skin as pale as a meticously woven ivory silk

Everything about her beatific features captivated me

I was the pirate attracted to a siren

The deer attracted to headlights

The moth attracted to the flame

The tide attracted to the moon

However.

I became the ship surrendered to the storm

The shadow finally welcoming the eclipse

And she was the anchor dragging me beneath the scintillating water

Every part of me was drowning in the wake of her horizon

Willingly drifitng into the beguiling calamity of her orbit.