She

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She is the words that I can't find. Every time I see her eyes, blue like the Atlantic, staring back at me, my heart jumps another beat. The way her lips crease just the slightest when she smiles, the way her light blond hair moves as the breeze flows across her. Her cherry red lips, how I just want to kiss them, and how they part as she laughs. I've never been the one of many words, but she makes me feel everything all at once. The way I cant stop thinking about her beauty, her grace. She makes me want to believe. The way her laugh could light up a room, the way it can brighten anyone's day. How her voice soothes me, and could make anything that happened that day, bad or good, feel so much better. She sits on the side walk, humming her songs, and melodies, or sitting around, strumming a guitar. I could watch her all day long. Then on some days, how when the weight of the world gets too much for her, how her cries sound, how her heart seems to be breaking. In those moments I want to just save her from everything that can happen, protect her.

The way she lays her head on my shoulder on those long night drives back into the city. All the times when we found some empty field, and laid in the bed of my truck, watching the shining stars, me only watching her. Those child like kisses and those moments only lovers know. The way her hand fits mine, and how I lay in bed and run my fingers over her arms, memorizing every inch of her. The times when we would go out and waste our lives and livers at the bar, and the other times, running around the playground of the local park, acting like children again. The way her perfume radiance off of her, and how anything of hers is going to smell like that same smell. The way she smell when she falls asleep in my large plaid shirts. The way in the morning she will wake up, complaining about how "bad" she looks. When really, she's the definition of perfection in my eyes. Her hair in one of those, half messy bun, half pony tail. Her face clean of makeup, or smudged just a bit. That large shirt of mine, which looks like a dress on her, and those small shorts she sleeps in every night, no matter how cold it is.

The way she loves to cook, and how she will always throw a pinch of salt over her shoulder when she does. Then she will have me taste everything she bakes, before it is even done. The fact that the kitchen will always smell like the newest dish in her book. The morning coffee that she loves to make and that her mouth will always taste and smell like. I love to think about how we fell in love, it's a gift every day. The way her lips taste like ripe fruit, and coconut. How her clothes she loves to wear makes up everything about her, how she wears those ripped jeans and the basic shirts, the ones with writing on them or flowers. The way she talks about everything she loves with such a passion. That is why I love her, that's why she's my life. She is the words that I can't find.

I wrote this for a assignment.... enjoy?

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