Colors

The day was Grey.
Her heart was Red.
Her tears were Blue.
Her cheeks were Pink.
His intentions were White,
But his words were Black.
The grass was Green.
The road was Charcoal.
Her nailpolish was Purple,
The steering wheel was Brown,

She drove as far as she could to escape that Town.

The Girl

The girl was 19.

She had a wildness about her lurking behind her soft features and unruly hair.

She admired class, and was waiting for her gentleman.

She had fervor in her heart, and fire in her soul.

 

She often bit her lip out of habit and always looked as if something had caught her eye. 

She vividly daydreamed quite frequently and on a regular basis but never losing sight of perspective or reality.

 

She's was a dreamer, which is in fact, the best thing a girl can be.

 Not a fool, no matter what Daisy Buchanan thinks.

 

 She loved awakening to the smell of Coffee, and she loved to write out her words that were sometimes sad, other times beautiful, and all the time worthwhile in her opinion.

The girl will be writing here whenever she feels like it.

She will be writing fragments, poetry, stories, words, and whatever else she wants to write about.

 

And no, she doesn't know what took her so long to write this.