Vainglorious, With Love
She was a letter with windswept corners, curling delicately. The calligraphy tattooed on the surface was beautiful beyond imagination. She bore the unforgettable words that would repeat for eternity.
She was the perfume, overpowering to the senses that could understand it. She created the uncontrollable desire to drown in the aroma, the blissful suffocation.
She was self assured goddess, bathing in the tumultuous outpouring of awe. She was excessively proud – and why shouldn't she be? She was, after all, the personification of perfection. Her golden flecked eyes and flaxen tresses put the sun to shame, for they shone brighter than any star that hung in the sky.
She was the heartbreaking elegy, torturing broken souls to further oblivion. She was the heart-warming rhapsody; mending the souls she caused pain.
She was the missing jigsaw piece everyone sought after, but she fit only in my life. She was the ultimate dedication, and she was dedicated to me.
With love, Rosalie.