Vivian Leigh

Your deep blue eyes
and fragile vulnerability
sparkle every time I see you.
No, you aren't Vivian Leigh
but you look a lot like her
and you wear your heart on your sleeve
like she did.
I am moved immensely
when I see
you.
You.
You, with your short black hair,
and those beautiful eyes,
and thin figure
and gorgeous ass,
and small breasts that
pop out at you like
greeters.
I made a complete ass of myself
last year
when you told me there was someone else
more than once
more than twice actually,
and yet I still pursued you
and annoyed you.
That someone else
was a complete jerk.
My guess is that he's the quintessential "bad boy"
with a goatee,
shaggy long black hair,
torn jeans,
who plays guitar in a bad punk rock band
and eats ravioli for breakfast
and rides a motorcycle.
From the way you act.
He's out of the picture.
Finally.
Hopefully.
If he is,
and you are looking again
for someone to call you "Scarlett,"
but who actually gives a damn
a real BIG DAMN
who would love to kiss you
lick you
and taste you,
then look no further,
my dear.