At least I'm honest

I fall in love with every beautiful woman I see. Whether we cross paths walking or looking at a distance I can’t help but want to devote myself to their body for the rest of my life. The eyes that appear to have seen nothing but rainbows and flowers. Lips that are unable to pronounce anything but simple poems. A jaw line so strong yet the opposite of anything masculine, leading to a slender neck seeming to be the epitome of vulnerable.

Of course I will never know the warmth of their flesh. And yet I cannot help but feel completely satisfied by my fleeting moment of intense passion. If I am so lucky to make eye contact with her it is as gratifying as a lifetime of devotion. In some way they always understand. We share our deepest emotions in a second, and go about our lives. She always seems shocked that it is possible to communicate through eye contact the things that some search for their entire lives and then some. But she is happy none the less and as you might know there is nothing better in all of god’s creation than making someone you love happy.

But many times they won’t see me. And I’m forced to sit in my fantasy feeling like some fourth class pervert staring inappropriately at a young girl trying to imagine what it might be like to touch their thigh or lick their ear. But I like to think that I'm a romantic. Someone that can send a chill through your being merely by looking at you. Someone that can make sex innocent and talking scandalous. Say what you will. Continue praising your novels and paintings. I will continue examining, no, living the inspiration for all of those things that you call beautiful.