Malfunction

She moves like meaning through a crowded page, A quiet force too vast to cage. Her beauty—yes, but not the kind That’s easily named or neatly defined. It’s in the way her silence speaks, How thought and fire lace her cheeks. Eyes that carry storms and stars, A library behind each glance of hers. She doesn’t chase the need to shine, The light just follows her design. Not made for mirrors or for praise, She’s built of wisdom, time, and grace. She asks the kind of questions deep, That echo long after you sleep. You’ll lose your guard, you’ll lose your place, But find your truth within her space. A paradox with steady hands — A soul that dreams, a mind that stands. She’s not for taming, not for show, She’s the answer you forgot you know, such a raging sage, epitome of erotic sagacity..

There’s a calmness when you’re near, Like quiet rain the soul can hear. No thunder, no grand display — Just light that softly finds its way. Your laughter lingers in my day, Like petals that the breeze won’t stray. Not loud enough to stir the skies, But bright enough to warm the eyes. We speak in moments, not in rhymes, In glances stretched across the times. I never say what pulls so deep, I leave it safe, where silence keeps. But still—if stars could spell a truth, If time could whisper back its youth, I’d tell you this, not with a plea: The best of me wakes when you see me. So here I stand, no lines to bend, A little more than just a friend. Not asking more, not risking less — Just holding close what I won’t confess.