My Heartbeat. Poem by clifford mate

I want to draw her with words,
Paint her with love,
Start with her eyes,
Dark brown with lash at the end,
With her small face they blend,
I bet she trends.

Her nose,
Soft like a rose,
With a slight touch of Shepherd's clock,
Not round, Not flat,
Just nice shape for a beautiful rose.

Red lips, White teeth,
A slight gap in between,
You see what you want to see,
Add a dash,
At the end of eye lash,
You to will have a crush.

Well her face,
Should not be pale,
Small, Round,
Angelic face,
Always perfect with gray scale,
Her hair should not fall out of place,
Because she makes no mistake.

Her neck and shoulder,
Just a bit broader,
To march her lovely milk holders,
As they protrude a bit, Call it cleavege.

Her hips broader,
Her stomach smaller,
Gives her the shape of anthropoda,
With a dot for belly button.

Should I draw her thighs,
It should be a breathtaking sight,
My hand are a bit shacky,
When it comes to those parts,
For they make me thirsty,
And I don't want to be lusty,
I bet you are judging,
That is why I will draw silently.

Her legs,
The first thing I saw,
Tinny yet strong, Making her to stand tall,
Marching her thighs with a perfect glow.

If I finish to draw,
I must draw her toe nails,
The way her cutex blends,
With her skin tone,
Not light not dark at all,
Call her a masterpiece,
I call her my heartbeat.