Pretty woman

I write in you with words of a child, with imagination not presented in these words I use. The vision I create has no life, no meaning beyond this page. I will rewrite the best thinng I have ever written. " A skinny woman the color of an easter egg dyed in the sun and washed from cotton clouds and pink lilies entered the room. Hair of chocolate brown at the roots faded to dirty blonde tickled her elbows, eyes of murky brown hiding behind gray contacts and eye lashes curled to perfection. Lipstick, cherry red spread on thick to cover the cuts in her lips, and cheeks powered pink because rosy red wasn't her color. All that was noticed was a faint white smile that disappered in the mirror, and a coke bottle shape she didn't believe she had; but she still hid her beauti her true beauti from the world. One day it will all disappear, the lights will dim and her number will be called and a question will arise. Did she live just to die?" Those words I had written not to long ago with no intetion of being this woman and even to this day I look at these words to remind myself I will never be this woman. If you are looking for some sober story about how my life is hard ns unsastainable I don't have one, but my story is just as important as the next.