A kiss so soft the feathers of a hawk blush in her presence.
Her skin so smooth that clouds feel rough compared to her touch.
Eyes as blue as the most crystal blue ocean.
Her hair as bright as the sun itself, but also more fregrant then the sweetest smelling rose.
She is more perfect then an artists masterpiece.
Theres just one simple problem about why she sleeps.
For its not for shes tired or exhausted after her day.
But it is because she no longer breathes lifes given air.
For she is not living.
For the rest of my days.
