She manages to ignite charcoal like entities of supernatural, bringing the darkness to light
She separates clouds as her smile illuminates the path on which i walk on
She tends to do that often
She awakens forgotten playwrights written both by her milk covered silk palms spreading intimacy on the edges of my cerebellum
She's sitting on the edge of a buoy swaying back and forth hypnotizing my emotions to feel something nonexistent
She manages to soak up enough memories in her napkin and slips it into her pocket to cherish.
She tends to be the only one who listens.