Bronze tresses as if metal molded him.
Topaz eyes as if liquid poured into him.
Marble skin as if an artist sculpted him.
Icy touch as if an ice block gave birth to him.
Who is this mystery?
Who is this man?
Why does he fascinate me so?
What is it I don't understand?
His name...unpopular.
His attitude...loner.
His voice...velvet.
His eyes... entrancing.
He tells me danger lies in him
I tell him I'm not afraid.
He tells me it's for my own good
I tell him I'll be the judge of that.
He's so careful
Why is that?
He's so cautious
What's wrong?
He's so tender
mixed signals
Author notes
This is Pt. 1 of a series of poems based off of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Series...expect to see more.
Adding your comment: