She was beautiful.
Beauty that would slither so near perfection, something meant for the God’s, that she evoked a sense of sculpture, of a perfect carving of a master artiste, that would pass not unknown even to the common (wo)man’s eye.
I don’t know what they call the body of a Greek Goddess, but I always thought it must be hers. Slender, but not without curves, tall, but by no means towering, a face with features so sharp, by God, you are lucky to be reminded that such beauty wasn’t merely ethereal, it was real. Cheekbones raised to kingdom come, forming always something like a cheek beyond a cheek, lips just turned out a little, so delicately pressed that you know they had to be the work of a divine sculptor, and small, watchful eyes. Her hair was not her crowning asset, but it mattered little for even the thin, long, dusky strands that sprung from her head were simply her imperfection in which she reflected humanity, her final daunt of imperfection making her thus perfect to behold.
Of her manner, little can be said but aimiable. She was open to every new experience she could delve herself into, bore the kind of charm that would turn her so very many acquaintances into fast friends. Her conduct and speech always beyond her years, you would seldom find her among peers of her age, or for that matter, suitors. She loved to dance, on no drop of drink, she said the music was her high and nothing broke her away like dancing. She loved art, creating. Always composed, genteel, yet passionate was she about so many little things. You would hardly know one to get more riled up over a favorite actress, a beautiful dress or a delicious dessert. Little held back her vowel overflow when talking about a good looking person. That was her thing, beauty was.
She was never overly complex, not the kind of person into whose depths you would fall and never stop falling, a something I know made her already perfect stance all the more appealing to the opposite sex. She was honest, sincere and open hearted, if those words ever had any meaning. Biases, she did harbor, but not of such vigour that would bar your ever having a chance to disprove them. If you didn’t know her, you may consider her a little vain, but any room left for such doubt is bolted hard and fast once you have spoken, but once to her.
I have always known her to forgive, or to let go most of what would hamper one from taking forward a firm stride in life. She thinks of the past and her relations, perhaps their definitions remaining a little too constant over the years. She finds the good in lost relations, even the most broken, if there ever was any for never will I forget her countless but’s to tattered friendships.
She was a Christian and a good one. She loved God, wasn’t a fanatic of any sort, but she had firm faith.
She was a devoted lover. Love was the only ocean you would find her drowning into ceaselessly, and ah! What an ocean to drown. She loved with every waking breath in her, she sacrificed and she gave, and she held on. Even amidst devastating peril, she held on.
She was real, she is real, one in a rare million.


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