And she is..

"She is the kind of beauty that talks in whispers,

Slipping under the blankets and
Misty on the window glass,
Hesitant and still,
Looking for cloudy moonlight
Shining stardust on the bed-side.

She’d creep up to me and yet I notice it only when she's right next to me,
Or her smooth lips brush against my neck, but..
God!

She is..."

"Subtle?
Resplendent?"

"No,
She is an epitome of unmatchable beauty.
An Angel trapped on this earth,
A bit of oblivious,
Becuase you never know, what she is thinking next."



"She is yours?"
"No!"

"Is she his?"
”No!”

"She is no one's, but mine!"

”Just mine!”