girls like her are the kind you go to for help. he face flashes in your face when you're in need, her words give you assurance when your soul isn't at peace.
girls like her are the ones sitting in a room full of people, alone, doing her work in peace. when you go up to her, she'll flash you one of those smiles - the one with the imperfect teeth and crinkled eyes and upturned mouth that gently reminded you of an lunar eclipse.
girls like her are nothing special - except for the fact that she's determined and happy and smiling and cheerful and lovely all the time, a constant source of support - the kind you fall in love with, the one with the brilliant words and magic oozing out of her pencil when she draws. she smells nice, she is nice, she teaches and shows you to be nice.
girls like her cry, too. when she cries, hold her by your side and tell her all the things she's taught you. girls like her save themselves, but remind her how to. her own words are her salvation, her own tears are her safe guard.
girls are her are everywhere. when she isn't there, the world doesn't cry. the world doesn't become quiet. it carries on, laughing, chirping - but everyone has a sinking feeling in their chests they don't - and can't express. girls like her are the ones you miss quietly, mournfully, silently - within yourself.
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Prismatic Memories
Poetry"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. scie...
