She Was Made of More

She wasn’t just beautiful— she was the pause between two heartbeats, the way the moonlight lands softly on a world too harsh for light. Her eyes held galaxies, but not the loud, burning kind— the quiet ones, where stars learn to listen before they shine. Her smile wasn’t just a curve— it was a promise, a soft unraveling of every storm I’d ever carried. She spoke in silences that only I understood. The way a flame knows when to flicker and when to hold. And I— I loved her in all the ways the world forgets to love. Not for how she looked but for how she stayed when the sky changed colors. For how she made sadness seem like something worth surviving just to hear her laugh again. If beauty was a place, she was home. And if love had a face— I saw it every time she looked at me.