He likes to take pictures of himself
From just the right angle he thinks he looks great
In the right light with a neutral background
No one could deny he is at least an eight
To who though was always open to debate
She considers her phone a camera first
Even when she's texting she's framing the scene
Plans her daily wardrobe around the color of the sky
Knows her fashion sense turns others green
Imagines herself on the cover of a gossip magazine
They met on a dreary day when the sun was hiding
Both of them taken in by the other's practiced smiles
He proffered his name and she responded with hers
Mutually instantly smitten by looks and styles
They exchanged numbers in order to swap picture files
Their first date was akin to a screen test
Both dressed to kill or at least maim
Even the jaded maitre d' was impressed
By the end of the night the spark was aflame
Not they share a home and the same last name
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