Too Good To Be True

I’ve tried to find some little flaw,
defect or marked complexion.
The more I search, the more in awe
I am of your perfection.
From pretty head to tiny toes
textbook figure proportions.
Loud in my mind a warning blows,
tread delicate with caution.

Like a:
gingerbread house amongst the trees,
have your cake ‘n’ eat it, no hidden fees.
You’re too good:

Too good to be true.

Your smile lights up a winter’s night,
your laugh instant infection.
Hands touch me warm and goose bump light,
your kiss feral/fierce addiction.
To escort your side is lively fun,
but are you real or siren?
Hark Angels on my right sing: “Run!”,
My Devils: “Act like Byron!”



©25.9.2018 Andrew Robert Chapman

mousetrap loaded with luscious cheese,
spontaneous x x x striptease,

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