This is how simple I am. When I see a driver desperately willing the traffic to allow him out of the street from where he is trapped, I stop to let him out. That smile of relief on his face and the wave of acknowledgement at the selfless gesture he has received, literally makes me beam as bright as the headlights travelling the streets.

She carries a tidy mess of contradictions in her bag.

you’ll notice her reach in for her perfumes every so often.
Her preferred scents are simplicity and love and she will spritz her magic when she pleases,always over doing it, as she does.  

But it’s her swift strokes of coldness when applying the colours of her complexities which is quite unexpected,but, as soon as you show her that she doesn’t need to apply these things, she simply places them back into her bag.

The more profound the emotion, the more vivid the memories and that is why you can feel their presence long after their absence.

He spent so long peeling away her layers, never pausing, never giving up. When he unraveled the very last layer, he couldn’t believe his tired heartbroken eyes.

Her heart was rotten and dead and there was nothing striking of her left, he had peeled away every last layer in the hope that he would find something more beautiful than her flesh and all he got was a wretched ugly mess. Still, that will teach him for not looking inside first. Yet more evidence that the eyes tell lies.

The kind ear, the soft shoulder,the soothing words, the encouraging arms. She could write her own thesis on compassion and logical advice. But when it came to her own, she could never recall the theory of it all. She somehow forgets the invaluableness of it.

She would like to settle her love someday, but she’s too wise to the ways of the tainted lovers of this world, that she feels she would simply spoil it with what she knows of the sorrow which lives within its uncertain arms.