she

She keeps pieces of me in her pocket. Some I've given to her, some she just took. She looks better with her glasses on. They bring out her smile. She smiles a lot. Sometimes, she drinks too much coffee and speaks faster than usual. I like her best in those occasions. She says she's crazy, I'm pretty sure she is. In a good way, I suppose.

She's always cold. She picks her food but somehow I don't mind. Maybe it's because she does it with grace and decision. She stares at me when she's speaking of important things. She stares at me when I speak to her. When she gets excited, there's no stopping her. She gets stressed easily, but when she relaxes, she relaxes for good. She always gets what she wants. Sometimes, she seems uptight and high-maintenance, but deep inside, she's sweet and gets pleased with little things. She cares about people. She's a good listener, but a better speaker. She stops time. She always goes the extra mile although most of the time, she goes for two. She can turn the smallest object into a reminder of her. She puts passion into everything. She eats her fingernails when she’s nervous. Her mind goes faster than everybody else’s. She likes milk in her coffee, and two tablespoons sugar. She likes napkins around her drinks. She dances while she’s sitting down. I could go on and on. Let’s just say she simply is.