Beautiful.

Her eyes echo a pale grey sky.
Her hair falls gently in her face
the color you would imagine a silver lining around a cloud would be.

Her skin as smooth and pale as milk in a glass bottle.
A man whispers between kisses
“Your beautiful.”
And all she can think is
“Is that all you see?”

I am not a mere make up of lucky genetics.
I am more than the ornate frame that holds me.

I am waiting for a man who sees my soul through my eyes.
Someone who runs their fingers through my hair just to be closer to the thoughts in my mind.

A man who wants to touch my skin,
Not for their pleasure… but to fill every inch of me with warmth and love, where only cold hands have touched.

Someone who kisses my lips because they adore the words they speak.
A man who sees the girl in the picture.
The woman in me.

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