please don't brighten at the sight of me

please don't brighten at the sight of me,

you don't know who i am. 

i'm glad you appreciate my face

and probably my other features...

BUT you haven't given yourself a chance to meet me. 

really, you've only see me

stand here.

what if you don't like the way i walk or run? 

or the way i brush back my hair with my hands? 

what if you hate my other outfits? 

especially how indecisive i am when i shop?

i guarantee i'll re-construct your sentences; i'll probably diagram them.

complain about a writer's cliches.

i'm glad you appreciate my face,

but you have yet to look under my leather bound covers 

to shuffle through worn, willing vanilla-scented pages. 

what if you find vanilla too boring? 

please don't brighten at the sight of me because 

you're inciting me to do the same.

frankly, i might be more willing to peruse your pages, than you would mine: 

that's what really scares me.