She Is A Woman, She Is A Work Of Art
She is imperfect. But in her imperfections, she finds meaning. She embraces her imperfect self, being true to herself and all she stands for. She is a woman, a true work of art.
Her smile brightens the darkest of days. Her smile is contagious, a mysterious cause of happiness and satisfaction in ways that one cannot explain. She is a woman.
Her warmth of the heart restores hope for the lost. Her warmth shies away the cold of the winter.
Strength is her middle name. Her heart is a fortress, a keep safe in times of chaos when everything is falling apart. The whole being that she is screams strength and commands wisdom wherever she goes. She is a woman.
A stare into her eyes and time tends to be still. In her eyes, unquantified beauty, beauty that can never be explained or challenged, not in a million years, gracefully lingers. She is a woman.
She commands beauty of body, mind, and soul. She speaks in the most soothing of ways, melting even the coldest of hearts for it’s from the heart she speaks, with reason and consideration in mind.
Her heart is intricate, yet simple to grasp. She comes with no manual. She is complicated if no time is taken to learn her intricacies. If great care isn’t taken to learn the ways, the working of her mind and heart. Haste is never her companion. Patience is. She is a woman.
Her love keeps no receipts. She loves like no one’s watching. Not for once will she shy away from the fire that burns deep down inside. A taste of her love and that’s all that lingers on your lips day and night. She loves with all that she is. She loves with the purest of intentions.
She is the most caring creature to grace the land. Her care and love go a long way. Limitlessly is how she loves. Tender, sweet, warm is all that she is. She is a woman. She has two sides to her. Her sweetness and care shouldn’t be mistaken for weakness, she warns. In an instant, she could become ones’ worst nightmare.
My heart isn’t a playground, she warns once more.
She is imperfect. But in her imperfections, she finds meaning. She embraces her imperfect self, being true to herself and all she stands for. She is a woman, a true work of art.
The beauty of her heart is unmatched, its wild untamed, not in forever. She is a free soul, and that makes her all that she is. She is a woman. 
