The Intellectual Girl
The Intellectual Girl
by Sean Colon
Fiery red hair
Hangs over her face
As her sleek hand waves
Swiftly through the air
Leaving trails of pitch black symbols.
Her pale white hands
Soft and delicate hands
Weaves such beauty
With only pen and paper.
Twiddling her hair
With her long fingers
She's touched by foreign hands.
Taking no notice
She inscribes beauty
Upon the inanimate.
She has no interest
In gossiping, playing, or dating.
She has a flair inside of her
She has the power of wit
Coalesced with the gift of beauty.
The hands, so light and sprightful
Oh, the gleam in her eyes
Her mouth, oh how it is untouched.
What more is needed
To match perfection
Except one vital element is lacking
She does not love me.