Alright. Here goes another poem.

BPOV

Eyes that see clearly,

They see everything,

They spot the slightest movement,

They see right through me.

Hair like flaming tendrils of bronze,

Complete disaray,

dark and light together,

soft to my fingertips.

Skin so fair it almost glows,

smooth and unblimished,

clear and sparkly,

the ice cold feel warms mine.

Hands made with perfection in mind,

long, slinder fingers,

play upon the piano keys lovingly,

but best when wrapped around my own.

Lips, though. That is my favorite right now,

Sculpted and full,

Pressed in a line most of the time,

comforting at moments like right now with them over mine...

Uh, yup, i was definitely bored. Oh, well. what do you think of my stuff? should i keep writing poetry?

If you don't think so, don't think it's going to stop me, but still...I like to know your opinions.

Please review.