𝕙𝕖𝕣

𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛

Her hair is so long and wavy. The way it cascades down and over her shoulders reminds me of a waterfall. A waterfall to frame her ultimate beauty.

I cant help but fantasize about being able to run my finger through her hair. In any circumstance. To calm her, to help her sleep, while I kiss her, and so on.

I want to wake up and help her get ready in the mornings. I wanna stand behind her and brush her hair while I glance at her in the mirror.

Steal a kiss from her captivating lips.

I often daydream of her. I dream in the middle of class about the way she'd look at me through her thick, dusty hair.

Her hair is a light dusty brown, seemingly pastel of sort. Her hair is so casual, she doesn't do anything with it, she doesn't style it and sometimes doesn't brush it yet, it's perfect.

It's terrible to think that she doesn't see what I see. She doesn't see the beauty, the perfection, the complete awe in her being and every time this fact comes to my mind, it fractures a bit of me.

The fact that she's been broken down and trained to think of herself negatively, to beat herself up over her personality and appearance makes me want to wrap her up in a safety bubble and keep her from the evil people of this earth, it makes me so badly want to protect her and keep her to myself, take her as my own.

She makes me go crazy like this. Something I know only few people to do to me. My heart reacts in a way that is almost completely new.

Her hair was one of the reasons I fell in love with her.