Megan

she was a type of beautiful no one could fathom. a peculiar type that took the breath out of your lungs like a punch to the gut. one so striking, she could melt you with one glance.

she walks with her head down unaware of the beauty she possesses.

she cares so much it hurts, and it fucking hurts.

but she is tender and she is loving.

she is excitable and almost childlike in this manner.

she holds onto a sliver of innocence that the youth around her longs for once more.

she is broken, but she is trying.

she is stronger than the floorboards beneath her feet and the steel beams above her head.

she treats you as if you are her entire world, and you’re lucky if she gives you the time of day.

you’re really lucky.
hi angels, here’s a poem i wrote about one of my muses, my best friend. – aly

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