She has beautiful pink-lush lips that make me wish to plant my own upon, her skin is porcelain mixed with a blush of more pink to herself.
The style I would use to describe her fashion is hinted with the rebellious aspirations of a greater self importance than she actually has.
She most certainly has an ego that is fed from these delusions of grandeur. Yet despite the dubious origins of her style in choice. The character devoloped from her consumed medium of media speaks the voice she wields. Through my own assumptions I see all of this and more.
From the gothic extremes taken of victorian England attire, to the anarchistic grunge punk of America. To me and I say that emphatically, It all mixes with her puertorican blood that holds a contrasting yearning for rebellion, originality, and conformism.
Again this is all from my own observations that I infer of her, not from the reality that she is. The mix in conflicting beauty she holds control over is intoxicating to me. This is likely what draws my gaze towards her.
All of her beauty to me, is enhanced by her voice. Why? Despite its octave deepness reaching a pitch far from most women. Oh so closer to the spectrum of the effeminated male.
Well, it's simple to me. But odd and concerning to most of my male and female peers. I know nothing of her but of the idea of her. Tha idea that I 'imaginate' and creat of her through mind and words. Words made in a language that I cannot fully comprehend to fully describe the full attraction that her mere pressence forces me to behold in all of her seemingly graceless gracefulness.
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My Attraction to her in likeness to the forces of the odd and the strange. Mixed with the superseding beauty of the feminine form of gender, and sex. She is most certainly a woman to me in the way I am enthralled by her. Her hips, lips, voice, face, breasts legs, eyes, temper, and character tell me she is the fairer of us. So simple I am, I admit this easily despite my own ego telling me otherwise.
Lies, it says unto me, yet passions occlude my vanity with a clarity of their intances of fire. And I am enraptured by her once more; through my idealism of her.
It is my sickness as so many have said before me, and I believe it wholeheartedly. As everytime I desire and act to pursue these encharessess of my mind. I am hurt, belittled, rejected or ridiculed and once more taken advantage of by lack of a guard around them. Of course, I persist; mine own fallacious ego thrives on the outer conflicts, my own passions create. Acting as the tool that it is to support my broken sense of self. Never have I blamed them for this as that is their nature while mine remains as the eternal seduced.
They are themselves and I am minself in all of our glorious selfs. That is why despite all of my desire for such a female of a woman to be in my life as a partner. I will and must judge and observe harsher; becoming both more aware critical of them and her.
For despite my wish, my desire; that burning lust filled yearning that i feel for them and her.
That feeling is not love, and I must recognize and accept them in their differences. It's a spell I've made for myself to entrap myself in a vicious cycle of my own choice of consumed medium of media.