The specks of yellow were so visible now Creating a ring of fire around her pupil- As the rest of the iris glowed, a stunning blue, that makes her look beyond beautiful.

When I look at her, I saw a girl who forgot about her problems through books. One who'd transport into a fictional world To forget about the problems this terible world was giving her.

she's a girl who tell Her stories on blank- pages, rather than a real person
She's the kind of girl whom I admired
For she has done a lot, a man could've just dreamed a lot. She's the kind men admired, for she is kind even with men she didn't liked', She's the kind of girl, a man like me coudn't have.

Strange is what I feel for her

I admit I dont want it at first,

But it sticks, it lingers, it dominates,

I can't describe it, because there aren't words to describe it.
But it couldn't possibly end there could it?

It always seemed like english was too short of a language,
The 6,500 languages in the world were never enough.

That all words created by mankind was never close to sufficient.
That all the synomyms, antonyms &
rhyming words were just the first stanza- Of her poem of magistry.

But It just won't stop there,

There should be a pen that could-spell out her name, as magically as my lips.
That could mirror the twinkle in her drowsey eyes when she looked at the moon.

There had to be, a dialect that could spell her personality as acurate as my eyes could perceived her.

There just had to be an ink

There just had to be a vocabulary

There just had to be a dictionary

There just had to be a simple yet accurate word to describe her.

If there wasn't, then where would I fit in?

© Binibining Sweethetic🌙️