sea and the rock below cocked to the undertow — roslyn, bon iver
the girl's pov
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(flashback/when she was 9)
— from tear-stained journal pages
it was a lethal woman my father brought home.
but oh, she was so beautiful,,
she looked like she was made of the sun,,
i. her eyes were the color of cold. seraphic mint blue, a pretty mask hiding a rotting heart. eyes the color of a lullaby, hiding cruel intentions,,
ii. her skin was like pearly plastic, flawless, dusted with a shade of gold as if she were immortal, as if she bathed in the sun itself,,
iii. her hair, layered shades the color of summer wind, pastel golds and silvers laced with dynamite and a grandeur no man could resist,,
she looked like an angel,,
but no. she was a cruel woman, and i saw right through her. under the blissful eyes and soft lips, she's a woman of blood and dior. she's a woman who forces her scars on the souls of others, and that other was me.
she raged war against me, the battlefield. since the very first moment my young eyes met hers. at the age of 9 i became a soldier, too young to carry the weight of 10 lifetimes between her shoulder blades,,
