She often had 'bad hair' days. Her clothes weren't always well pressed or stylish. Her eyeliner wasn't always perfect. She wasn't too proud of her weight, her figure, her thighs or her stomach.
But the good things, the perfect in her, they weighed out the flaws. Her hands were tiny, so she made intricate presents for everyone she loved. She loved with all of her being, and she loved everyone she met. She saw light, where only darkness prevailed. Her eyes, held stories, and wisdom, above and beyond her age. But her heart, her heart was the best part of her, perfect in all its imperfections. Fragile, but strong. She had her heart broken countless number of times. One would say her heart is delicate. But the number of stitches that hold the broken pieces of her heart, and her willingness to love over and over and over, tells us how truly strong her she is.
a/n it's been long and I don't know if anyone reads this anymore. but hello to those still reading! :)
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f r e e words
Poesíajust what i write when • i'm travelling ° i'm studying • i'm struck with inspiration ° i'm thinking •i'm listening to music °i need a release hope you like reading these as much as i love writing them. lower case intended. Cover by the lovely @g...
