Wednesday, 27 August 2008
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Letter Gone True
Dear Miss Idol of My Sincerest Affection,
I have never before known such a beauty as you to have graced my simple eyes. Your hazel eyes shine in the darkest of nights and your honeyed voice are the nearest my ears will ever know of the songs angels sing. Your ruby lips know only of the sweetest words and your fingertips are as gentle and soft as the clouds of the heavens above. And your ears, oh your ears, they, they listen, I suppose. Actually, I daresay your ears are quite nondescript.
Upon further reflection, your eyes are a rather glazed over mud brown and I've hardly heard your voice. From what I muster from memory, the sound was not all that pleasant also. Your lips are more a faded, dull eraser pink, or maybe it was simply because you often held one to your lips with your lead-smeared fingers as you muffled swears under your breath.
Alas, it may be delirium that lead me to believe you an angel, for you most assuredly are far from one. Yet I am still addled and confused. For how can I realize my folly, and still be madly infatuated with you?
Perplexedly yours,
Observer of Astute Ability
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