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amanda.
her skin is pale. barely darker than the lined paper she is writing on. the pale
colour amplified by the black sweater draped over her shoulders
and the black lace outlining her bust. her pale face framed by soft
gold. her hair is free falling around her. stray stands fall on the black
backdrop or to the floor. it dances when the wind blows. her white hands
sweep the gold strands from her face. long nails polished in dark blue.
full, soft pink lips in almost a constant pout. only darkened by the
lubrication from her licking them or the odd application of a dark shaded
stick full, if void of colour. almond shaped eyes lined in black and
shadowed lightly, begging to be noticed. blue and grey stones staring out
from their white ponds. she sits there in her pale beauty. in her solace of
silence and solitude. her simple silence mistaken for snobbery. she is just
shy, afraid of what they will think. but she listens. hearing all their words
and whispers, their thoughts and secrets. she appears like a mystery or at
least misinterpreted. she is just simple beauty.
