Her beauty is the kind of beauty that turns heads. Her eyes are the kind you can look into and see galaxies. Her smile is the contagious kind that makes you want to smile too and can’t help but feel happy. Her beauty is ultimate. Unmatched by all. Beauty that knows no competition because there is no competition. One look at her and the whole world stops. All you see and all you know is her. No more troubles, no more worries, just her.
Her beauty is not just physical beauty; look into her warm, chocolate brown eyes and you will see her pain and innocence distorted by both her present and past. It is not her physical beauty that gives her the most jaw-dropping beauty in the entire existence of the human race, but who she is, who she was, and who she will be. Listen to her voice and you will only see the mask she wears with the delicately painted smile that fools all; look into her eyes and you will shed a tear, for she wants no attention, no one to worry, no one to see her pain. Her tears, to her, are a sign of weakness when, in truth, to hide such powerful and pained emotions can arguably be a sign of pusillanimity. That is why she has the courage to confide in the ones she loves most, because she is brave enough to do so.
I do not see her as weak. I see her only as she is meant to be seen and that is not only as a warrior and my heroine, but also as my own support and foundation; the one who picks me up when I fall, the one who fights my own demons, the one I can always rely on in times of distress. One does not understand the complications and maze of emotions that run through another’s mind unless time is dedicated into studying every aspect of the darkest corners and deepest abysses residing in their encephalon. For her, she gleams light into those shadowy corners and fills the voids in my head.
She is so beautiful to me. From her own mind, her self-hatred tears her apart; she does not see what I see in her, but I will do all I can to allow her to view herself differently. There is a constant internal struggle within her, loathing all she sees in her reflection; though, everything she despises is something I absolutely adore. Her eyes, her laugh, her voice, they all create the person I love and I would not do a single thing to change her- apart from her last name. Those mesmerizing eyes that I constantly lose myself in, her wonderful smile-inducing laugh, and her soft, delicate voice that is capable of bringing even the most violent to a complete standstill; they all form this perfect, beautiful, angelic being that seems almost immortal, with her only missing ingredient: her wings. I am proud to call her my own, my life, my world, and my everything.