She was poetry. In all of her movements, the way light hit her skin, and even the way she cried silently.
She was poetry in its finest form, but people don't understand that it's for all to look at, but only them to claim as their own.
She was poetry. In all of her movements, the way light hit her skin, and even the way she cried silently.
She was poetry in its finest form, but people don't understand that it's for all to look at, but only them to claim as their own.