there is perfection in the art of her smile as the constellations that she never got to touch still course through her veins, burning through years of fear and replacing timidity with tenacity. i gave her a weapon to use of her own but i know she'll never need it; the bite of her lips is enough to sear the flesh from any enemy's bones. there's a tenderness to her smile that i can only dream of coaxing out; she's been so contained that any happiness is treasure as a fleeting gift. when i first met her i drew her from memory but now i know every inch of the girl that chased butterflies but has turned as hard as stone. they say beauty comes from ashes and i'd beg to disagree -- the most beautiful woman i've ever seen came falling freely from the sky, burnished by captivity and wrapped in the light of a hundred burning suns
