Her hair’s dark, curled up in mystery.
Her heart — as pure as a kid’s.
Her smile: ineffable.
Her skin shines, even at night.
Her presence lifts the bluest rooms.
Her laughs echo, even in vacuum.
Her thoughts — like snow.
Her lips the perfect shade of pink.
Her kindness softens the hardest hearts.
Her fashion: glamorous.
Her eyes: amber.
Her voice — one of angels.
Her hugs are filled with warmth.
Her perfume, made of jasmines.
Her shadows — flowers bloom.
Her touch: exciting.
Her name? Unique.
She inhales hate, exhales love.
She is amazing, auspicious, addictive.
She is my food, my air, my reason to exist.
She doesn't know these.
Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 5:02 PM UTC
Her hair’s dark, curled up in mystery.
Her heart — as pure as a kid’s.
Her smile: ineffable.
Her skin shines, even at night.
Her presence lifts the bluest rooms.
Her laughs echo, even in vacuum.
Her thoughts — like snow.
Her lips the perfect shade of pink.
Her kindness softens the hardest hearts.
Her fashion: glamorous.
Her eyes: amber.
Her voice — one of angels.
Her hugs are filled with warmth.
Her perfume, made of jasmines.
Her shadows — flowers bloom.
Her touch: exciting.
Her name? Unique.
She inhales hate, exhales love.
She is amazing, auspicious, addictive.
She is my food, my air, my reason to exist.
She doesn't know these.
A butterfly can't see its own colours.
And she doesn't know her impact of her presence
She is the butterfly and I am admiring her beauty.
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