She looked like someone straight out of the ‘20s.
Short hair, a boldly lipsticked mouth, a cocky strut.
She was beautiful, but she would’ve hated being called beautiful.
Beautiful was too feminine for her; she carried a smirk on her face that said, “I may be a woman, but I sure as hell ain’t a lady”, and wasn’t afraid to kick your ass if you merited it.
She would have despised anybody mentioning her eyes, but they were far too exquisite to go unmentioned. Many men, and probably more than a few women, have sworn they were a deep violet, given their close proximity to her face in whatever amourous activities they may have partaken in.
I, however, know for a fact that they were only a few shades darker than that of the sapphire pendant that adorned her neck. It was rumored that she murdered a man to get it.
Again, I know better. She never would have murdered a man herself. She would have seduced some poor soul into doing it for her.
She was ruthless, cunning, and coy. She was hated and loved, but nothing in between. She wasn’t an in-between sort of person. There was no gray in her world, only pure white and solid, unyielding black.
I like to imagine that I was on the side of love, although whether or not the feeling was requited is something I never fully found out, nor will I ever.
Some things you just can’t wait for. If you do, it will be too late.
I posted the first five or so sentences of this on my Instagram story, and people I don't even talk to responded saying I should post more or continue with it, so I did! Let me know what you think of it :)