As I look through the digital picture
I gaze at the deep dark brown eyes as if they were the spotlight;

His voice a melody I will always mistake with perfect
His face structure strong, cut and narrow;

Eyebrows thick as a brush that grow in line perfectly
Though everything about him isn't perfect, he thrives in every way plausible;

His arms have veins wanting to pull from his it's bones as if reaching for something it wants;

His eyes talk yet his mouth is speechless
His body language calling my name but quietly whispering the knowledge of me;
At the peak of the night, I call to Mars begging for me to see him again... in person.