She believes in the absurdities and the unknown.
She follows the eccentric and chooses ambiguous paths.
She brings colour to the spectrum of grey.
She listens to the kind of music that adds to the living.
Oh don't for a second think that's all there is to her.
She is one on the surface and another beneath the layers of human subjectivity.
She stutters at the sight of loved ones and makes easy conversations with strangers.
Because being vulnerable seems harder than talking
about the world to a complete stranger.
Her lips make the effort to smile and hide the heaviness
in her eyes while her heart is in utter turmoil.
Sometimes her face speaks of stories that her voice does
not have the strength to narrate.
Nevertheless her eyes crinkle at the lamest of jokes
and her arms pacify another human in distress.
These are just mere statements with different figures of
speech trying to justify my perception of a human dear to someone.
I might be wrong or right, no one really knows.
All that I know is
She is just another soul in the making.
P.S- This happens when one ends up binge watching movies that hits you right in the feels. This is also inspired by something I read long back and is very dear to me.
Link is given below. :)
https://ashleywylde.com/poetry/a-bird-just-flies/the-perfect-amount-of-insane/
