Category : Diary/Journal

Sub Category : N/A

She wasn't art. She wasn't a masterpiece many came and paid to stair at. She wasn't the priceless piece many envied. She was the mess only a few could ever clean up. She was the spilled paint on the new living room carpet, she was the wine stain on your white shirt. She wasn't beautiful, she wasn't art. She was herself and she was her own. 
She was a novel with plot twists, cliffhangers, and endless chapters in a world that was still learning how to read. 
She wasn't special. She was shorts and a hoodie long tan legs and a short attention span. She was a racing fan die hard adrenaline. She was blonde in the sun a golden mess in the dark she wasn't special and she wasn't art. She was attitude with black boots. She was good hearted and cold blooded. She wasn't perfect she was five foot four and a half and she was a test you wouldn't pass. She wasn't art. She was a Saturday night sitting around the bonfire with good friends laughing and dreaming. She was a good song on the radio on your way home. She wasn't a giver or a taker but she would give you her heart and take your breath away if only you would've let her. 
She wasn't yours.
She is her own, and you still don't know what that means.