She's got her halo and wings hidden under his eyes..
She was the perfect heroine from a long forgotten gothic fairytale, lost somewhere in time, with translucently pale skin, and fingertips that grazed the stars. Long golden tresses fell about her delicate face and framed unbelievable blue eyes that stabbed your heart with their jagged questions and could drag onlookers into their terrible depths from miles away. It was with these eyes that the most timeless and beautiful of all curses was bestowed upon her. A slight build, she was average only in height, and so thin one always worried they might break her. Fragile as the ray of light that seemed to dance about her thin frame (though never thin enough for her awkward skin), and reflected into her endlessly deep sapphire pools, haunting her face. A terrible starlight burned within these smoldering blue eyes, and pain had turned the flecks of light that swirled inside them to pearls over the years. Only ghosts were allowed to wrap their cold arms about her, surrounding and poisoning her thoughts in a halo of dead words that possessed an incredible power over her and held her beneath the endless waves of time where she wandered in a thick fog, determined to drown herself. She traveled from heart to heart as an invisible storm that crashed through the world, leaving only a faint echo behind as proof that she had ever been. Those that tried to love her witnessed only her death time and again as they reached to hold her, but instead, found their arms passing through the smoke, to which she never failed to vanish. Starless hours filled with hell bent Rendez-vous occupied her nights, and she sipped on the blood and laughter of her lovers, trying desperately to recapture a vitality slipped from her grasp that she had gone to bed with one night, and somehow lost in a dream. Or perhaps she had never left the dream, she prayed each night that life was nothing more than a dream, and to break free of this dream, to finally wake from the hellish fairytale a single glance had cast her into. She offered no explanation. When they awoke, they found no indentation of her golden head upon the pillow, no artfully written love note, only unfamiliar broken wine glasses that seemed to echo from another time, and embodied other broken memories of which she had vowed never to speak. The only proof of the sinful night was a pearl tear upon their lips. She commonly flitted off into nothing but gossip for weeks even months at a time. Always returning, with the same tormented beauty, and she seemed to grow thinner, and more translucent with time. Her eager eyes reached inside of every person she spoke to upon returning, as if searching for something, anything, but it was something she never found. And soon she would be gone away again. The last time she vanished she had been drinking, and then stolen away in the night. For years, no one saw nor heard of her. She appeared back in her hometown quite as suddenly as she always left. Perhaps after years of fleeing from something she could never escape her wings had finally given out. She hardly seemed real, only a ray of light with familiar features stood in her place. But she was more beautiful than ever, and that night they found her lying in a sea of dead grass, near the church. The dry wisps of grass mingled with her tangles of gold, shimmering beneath the moonlight. The sky was crowded with stars that night, as if millions had suddenly been cast back to the heavens in a single breath. The next day they burned her along with all of her earthly possessions. The few letters she had clutched to her heart that night. There was no one to buy a casket for her. Besides, no one knew the right place for her, and they had not been able to decipher the letters. They were tattered beyond recognition from having been read countless times too near an old flame.