Beautiful

She was a beautiful girl. She just did not know it yet. The light freckles that scattered constellations of stars along her cheeks. The grey of her eyes was something more than the colour of a cloud. Her skin, a white canvas to scribe a billion words on. All these little things make up one whole, delicate human being.

She always kept her frost-kissed brown hair up in a messy fashion and her nails painted black. Sometimes, her eyes had been circled red after lunch. It happened in the morning after she came in late to lesson. She always wore long knitted sweaters and leggings. It was her style. It was an alluring style. She was a skinny latte wrapped up in the winter but all the time.

She barely spoke. When she did, my stomach did flips and my heart ran a marathon. Her voice was so small and fragile like crystal. If she knew if she spoke too loudly, it would break. I would love to hear her speak every second of the day. She could make a declaration of hatred sound like an angel song.