Sometimes, I get angry, looking at her, knowing that no matter the circumstances or twists or turns in fate or destiny or what ever you call it, she would never be mine. I'm not worthy of her, my ragged mind and bad habits don't deserve anything as beautiful as her. Not even the Sun is worthy of touching her fair skin or coating her with warmth. Allegra is as radiant and luminous as any star in the universe.
If I could , I would pick the constellations out of the night sky and place them in her hands. Yet I can't.
It would be a miracle for someone like her, to love something like me.
YOU ARE READING
Allegra
Historia CortaShe was art. Not an abstract painting or a heavily worded book. She was wonders hidden in a masterpiece. Wonders others weren't bothered to look for, to appreciate. A beautiful arpeggio mastered by your left hand, the harmony produced by two notes...
