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Posts Tagged ‘beauty’

I should be in bed, sleeping.  Instead I’m writing this.  I’m going to regret it…

Today at work the cute tray taker was back again.  For goodness sake, I can’t seem to let it rest with this boy, can I?  I don’t really know what it is about this boy that enchants me, but he does.  He’s not even beautiful.  I mean, not in the sense that boy models are, or that ordinary boys are.  In fact, in some ways (I hate to say this) he’s ugly.  That would undoubtedly be Boy Wonder’s opinion.  He’d say, “Wow!  That kid is a tragedy,” because he is over dramatic like that and exaggerates like mad.  Then I’d say, “no he’s not.  He has his own beauty, it just isn’t conventional.”  Except I wouldn’t because I wouldn’t be caught dead saying that about a boy IRL.

But despite all the traits that offend conventional beauty, he does have a unique alure to me.  He seems so incredibly…sexual.  Every time I walk by him I have to restrain myself from reaching out and touching him.

And adding to the strangeness of his attractiveness is his age.  He cannot legally be younger than fourteen.  And while fourteen is the upper boundary for my “age of attraction” he is not prepubescent.  His voice is unchanged, as I mentioned before, along with the fact that it is gorgeous, but he is clearly in the process of maturing, and not that far behind the average.

Perhaps he gives off a type of pheromone that I’m particularly responsive to.  ;)

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Now I walk in beauty

Now I walk in beauty.
Beauty is before me.
Beauty is behind me,
Above and below me.
–Navajo prayer

bwin playing ping pong.  Oversized white jersey.  number 08?  No.  80.  Dyed blond.  Nice shorts.

Platinum, reminds me of The First Born.

No Longer Beside Me.  Too-big-sunglasses and two deep scars on left thigh.  Beautiful torso.

Deep Gold.  Floral board shorts.  11 or younger.  Well developed pecs.  Lost a golfball after dropping it while juggling.  I tried to help, but couldn’t find it.  Archangel.

The Prophet.  Ate breakfast with his mother at the table beside mine.  Ate breakfast with MY mother the day before.  has a younger sister.  Got stung by a jellyfish while swimming at the first island.

The Italian.  Has an open innocent clear face with very pale but healthy, lovely skin.  Black hair and brows.  9 or 10.  Possibly 11.  Two younger siblings.  One older?  Pale blue jeans.  Truly heart melting.

Freddie Highmore.  He doesn’t really look like Freddie, but has some features that remind me of him.  A sharp, old face.  Wise looking.

Sweet is your antique body, not yet young.
Beauty withheld from youth that looks for youth.
Fair only for your father. Dear among
Masters in art. To all men else uncouth
Save me; who know your smile comes very old,
Learnt of the happy dead that laughed with gods;
For earlier suns than ours have lent you gold,
Sly fauns and trees have given you jigs and nods.

But soon your heart, hot-beating like a bird’s,
Shall slow down. Youth shall lop your hair,
And you must learn wry meanings in our words.
Your smile shall dull, because too keen aware;
And when for hopes your hand shall be uncurled,
Your eyes shall close, being opened to the world.
–Wilfred Owen

He has a look of melancholy even when he’s happy that makes him intensely beautiful.  heart melting, again.  Let me explain what I mean by sharp.

His eyes are clear, intelligent, piercing, all seeing.  I think they’re brown.  Sharp eyes.  Sharp wit behind them?

His nose is narrow, longer than average without looking out of place.  Still quite small, of course, like the rest of him.  Classic boy swoop dusted with freckles ending in an adorably mousey point.

His chin is narrow, giving his whole face a kind of angular, triangle shape, sitting atop his slender neck.

his hair, purest brown.  Very English.  Short and wind tossed.

Perfection.

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