As soft as the snow had felt
As cold as the depths of hell
Be her soul bound to a honeycomb
For all to see

With lips of silk and soul of milk
A deity she'd yet to retrieve

Surrounded by ones Shallower than the Iris of an eye
used to see the Iris of her innermost deepest disguise

The slowest speed is incomparable to the frequencies of her mind
Which flows like water gently inside

A part of her is a whole of you and even more from where it resides
Her charismatic flaws and rates of mysteries still coincide