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Andrea Diaz Apr 2015
She had wavy locks
The kind that twirled around when she stood at docks
When the coastal wind fell in love with running in between the hair lines.
And everyone will always note her beautiful brown skin
But even those descriptive words could never sink in
Because she was the type of girl
That no other writer could dream about in their worlds.

Her dark brown eyes had always shied away from other’s looks.
Pierced and wandered when all the other glances took
A look at her attempting to flee
To the imagination she’s always dreamt about in the early morning passed three.

You see,
There once was a boy with ocean eyes and golden tip hair
With spots plotted all over his skin
Who made her feel like the flowered one underneath the sun
Because surely her heart was won.
But she never noticed the gun
That continuously took aims at the teared down fortress
For surely she believed that there was hope for the heatless
And no matter how many bullets hit the mark
She was too afraid of being in the dark.

You see
The idea of her was as simple as it can be
Smiles and laughs
Kindness that forever lasts  
She was the kind that got people to open up and shine
But there always came a time
Where they leave her far, far, behind
The ideal her starts ripping away
And there always came the day
When it stopped becoming her outer shield
And when her insides became harder to deal
There always came a time when the real one revealed.

And they’ve always foretold
The truest one breaking free from the hold
But they never tell you
Who’s going to be there to see the real one coming through.
And stories always hide the sadness with glee
Because no one ever knew that the spotted skin boy flee’d.

So she was left on docks
Wondering why her wavy locks
Had not received the coastal winds love for her hair lines.
Wondered why her skin
Was missing light rays the sun once gave in
Because even though people would write
How she must stay strong and be the light
That her love has to come from within
And not from what could sink in

But no one ever told her
How lovely it was to be nurtured
By the words that went passed her ideal
And comforted what has always been real.
(its been months since he broke up with me and I finally got around to writing this)

— The End —