You don't care for my sweet words or the rhymes laced around my spine, the rhythm hooked unto my rib cage or the emotion in each line.
I understand you only care for sweet girls with honey dripping down their thighs and lips as plump as if God himself carved out every detail with a hunter's steady eye, but understand that I am a great treasure.
No woman's beauty can come to measure the grace of my soul. And you are yet to discover me, thanks to love's loophole. You are yet to even search for me. But I am waiting, ever so patiently.
Right where I'll aways be.
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