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The Pages of the Book

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She sits,
This girl,
Dressed in shadows. 
Harsh brown eyes colored around darkly with black. 
A pale white face like a ghost, 
Maybe that was the intent. 
Black hair chopped at sharp angles,
A chunk in front of her face, 
Intended to be an invisibility cloak.
 A chain hangs loosely from her neck, 
Saying she can't be tamed. 
Tall lace up combat boots swallow up her calves, 
Closing there jaws just shy of her knees.
Rings adorn her fingers, 
Black,
And silver, 
Twisted and sharp. 
But on that hand sits a ring of turquoise, 
Crafted into a neat, 
Soft circle, 
Foreign amidst the others. 
And I start to wonder about this girl, 
Who seems dangerous and deadly. 
I wonder who she is. 
Because that one ring was the chink in her armor, 
The hole in the fence, 
And now I see right through. 
I glance at her eyes and hers' lock onto mine, 
A warm smile spreads across her face and I grin back, 
Realizing that I've seen past her cover.




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