She was the type of beauty that a camera couldn't capture.
The way she smiled, her eyes crinkled at the cornners,
How she made silly faces just to keep you happy
She seemed to be willing to say anything, no matter how profane, to make you laugh.
And then she would smile and giggle, her own brand of laughter, and this would make you laugh even more.
It was strange, how she did it without you knowing it was on purpose,
How she would sometimes smile into space, and have memory clouded eyes,
Then out of nowhere start telling jokes that aren't really jokes, and stories about her misadventures getting lost.
She was a whole new type of person, and it was strange to be around her at first,
Quite literally you just became friends, with no clear beginning as to when it started,
She just slid into you're life, like it was her home game, and played a fool, but scored the winning point at the last second.
It was hard to believe that someone who was so cherry and bright, was smart and beautiful too.
It was even harder to capture exactly how unaware of that fact she was,
Yes, she certainly was a whole new brand of crazy,
And it was impossible to capture her in a picture because where the photo would be flat and flimsy, with no depth,
She was strong, unmoving and continues off the page.
You couldn't capture someone who was free, because she knows what it's like to be caged,
She was the type of beauty that a camera couldn't capture.
YOU ARE READING
Untitled Story
Non-FictionShe was poetry. In all of her movements, the way light hit her skin, and even the way she cried silently. She was poetry in its finest form, but people don't understand that it's for all to look at, but only them to claim as their own.
