The mirror part 1
I watch in awe when she walks up to me, oh how blessed am I to gaze upon her.
A girl so beautiful, she should be dancing around with the angels, somewhere far better than this earth could ever produce.
I notice everything, the way her golden hair is the color of sunshine when it seeps through the windows during golden hour. The way it effortlessly falls against her shoulders like every choice in human history, has led up to her creation.
I watch her striking and exotic eyes, the ones that widen every time she sees something or someone she deeply loves.
The eyes not quite the color of the ocean, more of a river; more wild in a sense that portrays freedom and suspense and bewilderment and wonder, but also a certain kind of tragedy that nobody else sees.
I look at her lips, the ones that have uttered such beautiful words, but also the ones she bites when she’s afraid of speaking about something.
When she’s afraid of not being heard.
It’s the way her features all fit together like she came straight out of a painting from the renaissance, such natural elegance that surrounds her and everything around her, the air the water the plants the flowers. Nothing could ever compare, so exquisite and breathtaking.
She takes away her own breath sometimes, but not for the same reasons she takes mine, anxiety has her in a chokehold and squeezes whenever she already can’t breathe.
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