Somewhere underneath it all laid something. It wasn’t clear, distinct, or within sight but my…my… if you had seen her that night. I promise you you’d of done the exact same as me. Nobody had seen it, none of the men hovering around noticed her all of them could not see the truth, all they saw were her flaws.
These flaws which hid something – the chapped lips with her dry tongue greeting them, often accompanied by smoke on her breathe, her bloodshot eyes crimson with heartache, her skin dirty & maddened with aged scars. Her blonde hair scruffy and recklessly cut into split ends & rough braids. Her ears cringing, her frame short and embroidered with a sure poise which let her swing so freely, so gracefully, so quietly. Unnoticed.
Her rough & muddy overalls baggy and unbefitting, not welcoming a gentleman’s gaze. Her hands…. Her hands… stained with callus. Her stance menacing like a lone wolf, standing in the corner of the room. Too imposing to approach.
These flaws which hid a tasteful beauty.
But somewhere underneath it all… laid a woman, and what a woman at that.
Someone’s rugged thorn….. My… beautiful Rose.