Her eyes were brown.
She often joked about how they were "shit colored". They reminded him of freshly wax-polished old wooden floors. They made him feel warm and at home. Those deep, dark muddy puddles of cinnamon swirls held him captive. Her eyes seized the depth of tragic, heavy untold tales, which imprisoned sweetness of brown sugar and bitterness of strong freshly brewed coffee. They consisted of raw emotion, but if you looked hard enough you could see exactly what she was thinking about, the exact thought that crossed the marvels of her mind. Her mahogany orbs showed how between surviving and accepting fate she lost herself but her innocence still shined through. The dark brown hues complimented the beige cream shades of her iris ring. They lit up and glowed with humor and playfulness when she laughed. What a beautiful, rare moment it was when she laughed, like spotting a unicorn drink from a small pond in the woods. Nevertheless, her eyes possessed a great amount of sorrow and hurt which gave her beauty depth.
She masked her pain with an armor of strength. No one knew about her fragile side. But he did. He knew exactly how she was putting up an act. He wanted to drain out her sadness and replace it with happiness, even if it meant giving up his own.
The corners of her eyes lustered in soft twinkles when she smiled which reflected the light causing the copper shade in her eyes transition to sweet caramel. Her eyes were the type of brown that melted at the tiniest bit of heat of affection. But that brown also turned hard and brittle from the cold harsh reality of this world. He thought her eyes belonged to an anime character due to them being so wide and manipulating. Her eyes, how he could stare into them till the end of time.
Her long, dark raven hair flowed down her pale ivory back like the blackest of inks dripping down bleached parchment paper. Dead straight, yet soft. they smelled of strawberries because of her strawberry shortcake shampoo.
No matter how the light reflected at them, they still looked beautiful. But then again, doesn't everything look great with black? So thick and glossy, he often wondered how they would feel between his fingers, subtly gripped with care. How they cascaded down her delicate skin. They were so perfectly jet black with little hints of brown. The shades went beautifully together, displaying an artistic contrast. They were soft and silky and he could tell apart each strand.
Her lips were stained baby pink. Soft and plump. Whenever she would chew on the end of her pencil during class, he couldn't help but stare. How the wood glided across the silky surface of her candy glossed lips. How she looked so attractive biting her lower lip when she couldn't understand a math equation.
Her voice, so sweet and calming. How he could fall asleep listening to her talk about puppies and kittens. She sounded so seductive and beautiful without even trying. At night, before falling asleep, he imagined her singing in the bathtub, with her hair in a messy bun, playing with a bright yellow rubber ducky. She was truly a goddess.
She was short, 5'3 to be exact. He could easily lift her up. She hated the fact she was tiny and short but he thought it was so cute. She was very light weight and had subtle curves that complimented her size. He didn't think she was sexy because of her body but because of her confident character and her determined attitude. But sadly, that still couldn't change the fact she was truly broken inside. "Sweet little baby in a world full of pain" was all he could think of when he saw her. It's like she kept on falling deep into a pitch black well, hoping someone would catch her, hoping someone would be her "everything better" plan. But every single time she was let down and on her own. It's not that she didn't like being independent but everyone needs help sometimes. She did too.
It was like someone took her wings, clipped them right off when she was asleep. She slowly started distancing herself from everyone. She was hopeless. They pushed her to the edge. Bent her out of shape. Damaged her beyond repair. Everyday she would wake up with the same sinking feeling. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing made her feel anymore. She was spent. Even after all the hurt and all the sorrow, he still thought she was perfect.
Her soul.
Her beauty.
Her eyes.
Her voice.
Her laugh.
Her.
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i know im spending a lot of time on descriptions but trust me, it'll get better. the next chapters will be from POVs (point of views) so stay tuned.
xx