The Only Thing I Have To Offer

She’s lying on the bed, her hair fans out from her head. She looks beautiful when seems to not be trying to impress anybody, and is existing and living for her own sake. Those bright blue eyes that I could get lost in for hours are staring intently at her eyelids. They drink in the darkness that surrounds them while light streaks across her vision like miniature shooting stars. A fireworks show for her, and her alone. The hair I touched upon earlier is a dirty blonde color, and when you see it you want nothing more than to see her casually playing with it, probably not even realizing the she’s doing it. You know that it’s the little things that will make you fall for this girl. Not any huge act, but the little things, like the way she smiles when you make a stupid joke, or how she’s willing to give her snapchat to some guy she just met. Unfortunately this beauty is not free of her trials. She has fought demons so terrifying the strongest man alive would cower in fear if he ever caught a glimpse of them. These demons show themselves in the sadness she feels each day, no matter how hard she tries to be like all of the people around her. They show themselves in the way she sang songs with razors in private. She wishes they could have shown her the compassion or mercy that everyone she cares about fakes. Regardless of these trials, and the scars they have left upon her she remains beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. Somehow she continues on, and I don’t know if what she does can be considered anything other than strong. To refocus on what is beautiful about her visually, her body is short, but whatever created her used the space they had to work with well. I say sculpted because there is no chance that this vision lying on the bed was created through nothing more than accident. Her lips draw your attention like magnets, and your eyes cannot resist their draw. To do otherwise would feel like an affront to the beauty you have the privilege of viewing. Her lips beg you to kiss them, as if they have their own will, but to do so would feel like desecration of holy ground. Something about the feeling that would inevitably come from that kiss would make the desecration feel like nothing, and would be worth it.