She had a golden smile with silver eyes.
Her tears never showed up when she wanted to cry.
Those silvery eyes fooled people.
Sadness overtook her soul like a creeper.
Her long hair always covered her smirk.
Trying to reveal her beautiful work.
The work of faking her up in order to protect.
In which her lips always helped.
Those beautiful pink lips were always sealed.
Still having the taste of the man she first kissed.
Though her ears were always alert.
Searching the stories she always wanted to heard.
The stories which were dark and depressing,
Somehow kept her soul refreshing.
The funniest thing on her face was the nose.
Hilariously turning red whenever she was cold.
Not the cold you catch from atmosphere,
But the cold created by your inner sphere.
She hid herself in her perfect maze,
In which her feelings were caged.
That coldness was making her weak,
In a way she could turn into a freak.
She was unaware of what was coming,
Playing with the cold she looked stunning.
Her beauty is something I cannot define by words.
Wether it is of her face or of soul.
Don’t get it mistaken as my lust.
It was because she is someone I could trust.
I don’t know if it’s love or not.
This is something I’ve never got.
I know I’ll continue this feeling,
Because finally I was healing.