The midnight blue sky melted down to earth in her eyes, washing the world in black while her smile stole the sun.
She was one would call perfect, (the sort of perfect that was truly imperfect).
She was the one that would change lives, twist fate.
The embodiment of love.

The way her hair moved with the summer breeze, though winter's snow still fell.
Her curves traced that of each mountain, purely from mother natures own touch.

She is a figment, a dream, a imagination of collection.
She, Her are things to be and things that are, strung out through out the world.