This is a general statement by a boy on how girls are so much prettier than anyone gives them credit for.

My God!

How do You do it?

I look at her picture and her skin is so much more perfect than mine and her eyes are set perfectly apart and her lips are the fullness that they were called to be. I watch her walk and I am astonished at her confidence and at how she could care less about who is around her or who it is that might be thinking whatever it might be that they are thinking.

She just reads her books and lays on the grass patches that she finds fit and watches the waves curl and the sun set and the moon rise and the stars wink.

she touches her hands together and even the wrinkles of her palms and the webbing in between her fingers are things to be written about. They are the things that we dream about subconsciously along with mid-evil hero tales and falling off of buildings and not dying.

Her hair is something that cannot be described. It's like trying to describe what wind looks like or what color the notes are that the old man is playing on the piano. There just is no way to tell someone about those types of things. No way.