She is poetry in motion. No. That's not quite right. Rather she is the making of poetry Chaotic. Messy. Not quite complete. There is much editing to be done.
You loved her vividness. She loved your darkness. You admired her strength. She embraced your weakness. You wiped her tears of happiness. She mourned your tears of sadness. And when you saw her flaws, You suddenly changed. Dismissing the fact that she first loved your imperfections Above all your lovable complexions.