Again I find myself writing about her. The woman who is visiting my dreams every night; the best version of a person you can ever meet.
To the eyes of the beholder, she looked like a fallen angel, like the dust of a burning star. She looked like a person who can steal your breath away.
To the mind of a contemplator, she was a mystery they try so hard to solve. She is the maze they try to find their way out of, yet she was also this labyrinth where they wish to remain lost for the rest of their life.
To the brush of the artist, she stood there like a masterpiece that they try to imitate. The artist stared blankly at their canvas in hopes to find the right way to paint her.
Is she really the strong woman she pretends to be? or she is just a baby from the inside? Maybe she is just a weak person who is stealing the persona of the strong and powerful beings around her.
Is she that hard to read, is she really the maze they think she is? Or she is just an open book, a book whose cover already reflects what’s on the inside.
Does she visit my dreams and make me believe she is this spectacular human being to intimidate me or to make me thrive to become just like her?
Dear you, who are you?
