The first time she fell in love 

was when she saw a piece of paper

and felt an urge to spill her heart out.

She wrote new realities because hers

weren't so sweet.

She sees the world as it is:

beautiful and cruel.

Filled with love and roses,

and hatred and judgment. 

She's scared of other people

and what their words could do to her.

She's called an angel but nobody sees

that her wings are broken and tattered.

She's falling down with no one to catch her.

She has a world know one knows of.

It's full of her whispers of pain, and

laughter sent straight from her fingertips.

She believes in love, 

but not for herself.

She is the hopeless romantic

who isn't experienced in romance.

She is a writer,

who finds poems in the creases of people's fingers.

She's a rainbow,

in a white world.

You can't describe her with simple words, 

because she is simply not a simple person.

She's complex.

She is me.

I am her. 

We are one.

So, when you see her, please just love her.