She didn’t really seem like much
When you look at her.
Just another ordinary girl
Dressed in a pair of torn jeans.

Just a regular T-Shirt the color of lime,
Hidden under her emerald green winter vest.
Her hair all shaggy,
Messy but still ordinary.

Her hair was dark brown, a bit of light to it,
Dark chocolate in a s’more during the cold winter time.
Styled like a dog’s fur,
After it ran around a meadow for hours.

Her casual jeans were more than ordinary,
Even though you couldn’t tell from one glance.
Her jeans were the morning sky,
The tears the wispy clouds.

Wearing boots that were black
And up to her knee
Black laces
Snakes twirling around her leg.

Bracelets on her left arm only,
15, maybe 20.
But you can easily tell
They all have a bit of her story in each.

There was writing, hidden beneath the bracelets
Written on her wrist, the ink of a pen.
Song lyrics, changing daily, but they always seemed
To remind her to be on the bright side of the day.

Not to mention her eyes,
Eyeliner was like a sharpie’s ink,
Emphasizing her eyes,
Her only makeup.

Her eyes were dark and endless depth,
Look into her soul with a stare,
Coffee without milk,
Or crème to mix it in with.

It was hard to look past
All the casualty she had
But once you, do you can tell
Who she was, her real story.

Her teeth were like the pearls
In a clams mouth,
cracked open.
Shiny, white, beautiful.

Her wings most of all
Were like the wings of a dove
Blended with the wings
Of a hawk or a falcon.

She didn’t really seem like much
Look past her reddish brown
highlights hidden in her hair,
all these flaws that made her flawless

A Hidden Angel in Torn Jeans.