Inspired by one of my friends and her perspective on life.
A weak chin but eyes that could damn a man to hell. Those lost eyes that seemed to transform shade every day to reflect the mood of not only her, but of the world. Occasionally green – inherited from her father - erstwhile a swampy mixture of green and brown, and sometimes light brown that borders on the region of being a different colour altogether. If the light hit them just right, no matter what colour they may be on the day, her eyes smoulder golden from what seems like within no matter how much the logic of one’s brain tells you that it’s just a trick of the light.
A unnoticeably broken nose that turns up at the end, giving the illusion of innocence, coupled with her high cheek bones that shape her face perfectly for those aunties who love to pinch cheeks make her the image of charm and adorability.
At long last, her mouth, with the corners turned up no matter her mood. Full lips, begging to be touched, always the same rosy blush as her cheeks, making her look like a perfectly sculpted china doll. Only you can’t touch.
Short hair. About a fingers width on the sides and longer on top, like a Mohawk, although never standing tall, modest until the luminance of it meets you. Red on top, blue sides and yellow tips. Clashing with her features, matching her conspiring eyes.
All of this with the skin tone of someone who’s lived in the sun, but has let their brown glow fade. Now her skin is brown mixed with grey, making many wonder what happened to change her, but none ask.
Bob Lennon. May 6th 2011.
She wasn’t always like this, not when we first met.
Her eyes didn’t hide so many secrets; they couldn’t wear you down with one look.
Her hair was long, almost down to her knees, from one extreme to the other we tell her now. Golden in colour – almost matching her skin tone - with an orange tint that no one pointed out to her face.
Roberta Lennon. September 6th 2006- June 15th 2009.