I have wanted
for what seems like
an eternity to say
precisely what I think of you.
You are quiet and shy,
but somehow engaged
in life around you.
You are well-read
and yet raunchy and unapologetic
for your words.
You are blunt and sexy,
though thoroughly unaware of
your own appeal.
I admire your athleticism
and wonder how that
would translate into
"other activities."
Yes, I want to know;
more than anything, really.
Of course you are,
my desires do not exist;
unobservant to your
very core, perhaps
your only flaw.
So this is what I think,
oxymoronic or not,
you are an ass—
a perfect ass
that I
cannot help but love…
So help me God,
because nobody else can.