A Man of a Million Charm

I'm not very good at combining word for word with the classy prose of the writers. What many people say, luxury poetry can be worth more than gold gems.

Maybe a little exaggerated, but that's what the word means for the poets who glorify life in words.

He was, the young man with the gravity tattoo on his left hand. He was a young man with a shady face who always smiled at anyone who greeted him along the way. Him, almost never do I see him in the mask of gloom.

I didn't really like her that much, it made me look like a boy worship girl. I got acquainted with him at the end of this city street. I invited shaking hands, and I began to recognize and know his name at the introduction moment.

I could smell her sweet scent. The only feeling I felt during the day was happiness. My fault is breaking her smile. My words began to weaken during this meeting.

I would rather wait for him to speak rather than have to start with a conversation with a wound that scratched his eye. There is something different. Of course, it's not what we're wearing, but the taste I want to scream out for.