unruly tresses framed my face
of a common ebony black,
chapped lips, i painted red.
beauty: a measure i quite lack.
the vacant seat next to mine
has became occupied.
"i'm thinking of something pretty."
then your eyes bore onto mine
your parted your lips, and spoke to me
that a sunset is what you see.
you remembered of what i told you,
the beauty that i told you to believe.
