Rooke Parthum-

Do you know who I am?
Or am I just a shadow-
one of the many nameless faces in the crowd?

What if I told you something stupid like: that your eyes are vastly akin to dark pools of inky water under a sparkling sky; that they are fathomless depths that I would gladly loose myself in forever?

Would you believe me?

Or if I told you that your lips, enviable pink held prisoner between white pillars silently begged for me to kiss them? Would you believe me then?

How about if I told you that your hair reminded me of a tiny rabbit– all soft and feathery– too weird? Yeah, I thought so.

Or if I told you that your cheekbones so high like the abraded hills framing a razor mountain– your aquiline nose– were a blushing pink upon an ivory white– a goddess in the wintertime.

Would you believe me? Probably not.

For after all, you are not a dimwitted character in a sappy romance novel, you are a proprietor of a brilliant, luminous mind. And I so do envy you for that.

But what if I were to tell you that I long to kiss your face, your lips, your throat, grazing past your collarbone to latch onto a saccharine breast– that I would touch you everywhere at first– like an artist making a preliminary sketch to be filled in with bolder strokes later on.

Would you believe me?

If I told you that I would make love to you and you would feel as if you were going to meet an old friend– a dear roommate perhaps? If I told you that I would not gully you, abuse you, like a tiger pouncing, scoring the meat for a more efficient consumption.

Would you let me?

Would you let me love you, draw my lips over glossy thighs to add such subtle detail to such handcrafted finery as you– oh great goddess before me?

I am not worthy to be in your prescience, much less to ask of you:

Will you let me think for a moment that you believe my nonsense words that you perhaps wan t to hear them?

Will you give me my sweet nothings and allow me to cherish you as you so deserve?

Will you let me love you?

It terrifies me to think that if I were to reach out to you, I would find that I was holding onto only empty air and long-gone wishes, for how could such exquisiteness as you ever love a fiend like me?

Simply, I want you. Will you will you have me?

A/N: This is a project that I wrote for a girl in my creative writing class, telling her how I feel, so to speak. (I know it probably sounds like all I want is to fuck her, but that's not true, I want her for her...) Anyways, I asked her to read it, she said, "It's very good", but when I asked her "How would you answer this, she said, "That's not my deal." that was Thursday the 9Th of February, 2012. The day Rooke Parthum turned twenty-four (24). Happy Birthday, gorgeous, and Happy Valentines Day!

So, I'm curious, how would you, my lovely reader(s), answer to this project?