Her mind was made from cinnamon blocks and rose petals. She cried when her brother stepped on a bee, and gave the bee a proper funeral. She was pensive and quiet and had the simplest laugh one could imagine. She created works of art by closing her eyes and breathing. Her hands held tightly to moonbeams and she sailed across book pages, the words her ocean.

She wore her pyjamas from 8:30 at night till 6 in the morning. Her favourite flavour of tea was green. She hung her head and was known to cry for hours on Saturday nights. Her skin was cracked and she occasionally forgot to brush her teeth in the morning. Crimson bled around her mouth from the lipstick she wore in the evenings. Her hair drooped, ratty tails, oily. It was her eyes that haunted you the most.

Her smile contained every joy known to man. She sang quietly around campfires and danced at the full moon. Her eyes sparkled and twinkled and reflected your smiling face right back at you. She held the entire world in her hand and she shook like an Autumn leaf falling from a tree when she was cold. Her imagination ran wild, galloping like horses across the plane. She paddled barefoot and brushed her hair with a pearl comb.

She left the pots and pans on the bench for days. Her laughter was a mean cackle, thrown violently towards you. She would lash out for the strangest reasons and ran away on a frequent basis. When she was restrained she would throw daggers with her eyes. She swore that everyone who stood in her way would be punished. Her eyes weren't lying.

Her poetry was of the butterfly's wing, the boats on the horizon, and the birds in the sky. She sent get-well-soon cards to everyone ill and volunteered at the local nursing home. Her eyes were speckled with green and moondust and she meditated Sunday mornings. At sunrise she said good morning to the world and embraced the donkeys in the paddock and the lizards in the garden.

She threw paint onto canvas, screaming at the top of her lungs. She pulled out her brother's hair and stomped on flowers. She climbed trees and ran naked through the woods. Her skin was scarred with cuts and bruises. She disappeared for a week and came back for a day. Nobody knew her name and everybody recognized her. She was not one to be underestimated.

Her sandcastles were built of dreams and took photos of ladybirds. Her teeth were perfectly square and dimples appeared whenever she smiled. She wished upon shooting stars and believed totally and utterly in love. She spent her days outside and collected shells of turquoise and lavender. Her bedroom shelves were filled with origami cranes and broken bottle pieces she found, softened by waves.

She couldn't stand the heat and shivered in the cold. Her hair tangled around her face and her eyes flashed colours of fire. She drowned kitten's hearts and applauded death for every move. She surrendered her crown in games of chess and burnt her brother's dinner on purpose. Her heart was made of stone, her imagination filled with dust.

The End

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