Speaking of flying,
Reminds me of her smile that is
very semetrical to butterfly wings,
Eyes are always filled with lakes containing comparing to all the love in the world,
Out lived the shells, where she grown her wings,
Unimportantly juggle her outlined limits
crossed over by passing all the sadness,
Dream makes her world complete and I wish to live in it as a dreamer holding halo of rings.
I am missing her shining, for that I have made a pouch to harbour her glance in a full moon,
Seen her odd edges that I can’t forget
and the cuddles to a beautiful story in an afternoon,
Her honest tears and best lies in her smiles,
one can’t judge a flower by the raindrops on its petals,
I have seen her scars, the depth of her wounds,
Which she never have shown, or never told anybody about the battles,
Ugliness never meant to refer her, even in her vulnerability she has shown me her gracefulness,
I don’t think I am going to meet another fair truth like her,
I have already used all my feeling up to her heart but still have doubt to my usefulness.
I miss her smile, I miss her accent,
Missing her hair, missing her segments.
I miss her edges, I miss her finger tips,
Missing her nose ring, missing the coincidents.