Today you look Horrible, The worst I’ve ever seen I’m not sure what it is. Maybe your over-clean. It could be that you skins too soft, and a bit too warm to my touch. What ever it is it may be to much. Maybe it’s your lips. Soft, Wet, and moist, I feel that it should be voiced. It might be your eyes, Dark sensual, hiding a surprise, Whatever it may be it’s making my eyes tear. Could it be your dress, The clothes that you wear. They’re secretive, Yet revealing. I can’t help but stare. I might be the way you move. Fluid in your steps, With a blush inducing flair. Something I doubt you could improve. Maybe your hair, Wild yet controlled. Laying perfectly around your face. I think I’ve touched unto all the places, That could possibly be the problem. However, The more I think about, The way you look, As I open this bottle of Jeroboam. The more I realize, That I was wrong about this poem.