Lolita light of my life, fire of my loins... Blissful

I really should not let myself run on with my feelings. but i shall try to keep this obsessive post to a minimal pain as possible. oh wait yes i do have an audience, you ...the reader. so please try not to judge me, cause i am, too a person and have my own prejudices and has, of course my own obsessions. 

Due to the highly classified nature of this post i cannot reveal in anyway the actual people in this drama of sorts. so i shall use other names for them. 

So lets begin. 

I have been watching this person (my Lolita) no really but we have never spoken, or at least not at length. Now i think i have actually contemplated in liking this person, yes yes it breaks my vow of perhaps never liking a person so fickly but i have been, adoring from a distance, this lolita. yes, laugh all you want. And no no i hardly know this person. just that we did perform in several events. Nope i will not reveal where or who the person is, my Lolita, which is really disgusting if you have actually read Nabokov's novel which fits perfectly as the person, makes me somewhat suffer, her presence is something which i actually await. and adore it with all my heart. please do not take me wrong as some bloody sicko, serisuiment... It is just that i am contemplating liking this person. However there are too many complications at the moment. I will only step in at the right time. 

So my lolita, how does she look like ? ... give me the Pleasure to express... my lola, is petit, and unassuming. Her eyes, dance playfully every time I accidentally glance, and our eyes lock, there behind the softer exterior the eyes play and flicker, like fire. Her eyes, always seeming teary but beautiful soft eyes. Now i need not explain a lot but those are eyes you will definitely remember... remember. her nose, a pert nose, a soft contour on the playful face of hers. Her lips not full but glossy, wet, delicate the velvet soft. little words can ever describe, my lolita. Her body, the shadows and light play escentuate her softer features. ( i observed her asleep on the sofa) her hands, small, writing in a nearly child like fashion brings delight to my heart every time i watch the pen glide haphazardly across the surface of the paper. her hands are small, i believe smooth, for i brushed against them once. Her legs, props her only a few meters off the ground, but they are those that hold up a brilliant lady. my lola.. Lolita. 

yes it may seem disgusting to you to read this but endulge me a little please... it is not really Love love but there is something developing and i am going to remain status quo at the moment because i have no open opportunity. 

Yes the description is very general, this is so that you will not figure out who it is as simple as that. 

yes rather than bore you with another poem, i guessed i should have fun with a bit of prose too. :D. anyway please please do not read this and make me this perverse and sick man with unquenchable desire, for this Lolita of his. NO NO i beg you, reader to imagine your first love... the passion and the desire for each other is, indescribable. Please do not judge me nor try to figure out who it is who is moi lolita. seriously, it is a bad idea. just read the post and get on with life. really just get on with life, your life... i just want to stay ... here ... for a while more. 

Bliss