The Ephemeral Shade

I sometimes wonder if we share the same perception of beauty. And if we do, I completely understand why you will never fine me appealing.

My hair doesn't dry the right way, and my fingernails grow square shaped. My nose doesn't have a point, but more of a curve. I have horrid tan lines.....   and scars.

But You.
You have long silver hair and the voice of Heaven. No matter who flirts with you, you turn a violent red and it makes me want to turn the same color, only out of anger because you would NEVER turn any sort of rosey shade for me. Your family is protective and would never let me date you, because I'm a bad influence and I have a vagina.

If They Only Knew.
I hate hearing you ramble on about sex. The only thing I want you thinking of is holding my hand at the movie theatre while I buy you whatever you want, even though your family is far better off than mine and you could easily afford it yourself.

I want to walk you to class everyday for the next three years of my life and kiss your nose every time so I can revel in that ephemeral shade of Rose.

That shade of you.

Alora, can you see the moon?
That Golden color it produces...
It's for you.
And the stars, the way they shine in the blackness, that's all yours.

The sunrise is also in your hands, because only an angle can posses something so innocent, so non-polluted, so fragile.

Only Alora can hold the whole sun and never be burned, because at sunset it borrows her ephemeral shade...

And Fades.