Her peaceful smile is more of a ritual, rather than an expression of joy, as if she’s sacrificing a part of herself just to feel once more.
Her melodic voice is more of a hymn, rather than of dreary frequencies of sound, as if she’s summoning a divine being, one with an outstretched hand.
Her velvet skin is more of a map of scars, rather than of living cells, as if to remind her of every past tears and future fears that brought her down to her knees.
You might see just another exquisite woman, an embodiment of molten perfection.
But I see a force of nature. One that conquers the skies and silences the earth.
I see natural beauty at its finest. Beauty as it should be.
I see all that, and I hope one day someone will appreciate all that she is, and show her how her sole existence redefines beauty.