She’s quite, but she’s Gracy. She’s cute but she’s dangerous. She’s everything I would never want but she’s also every other thing I’d like.
She’s confident. She independent. She would stand strong for self and her loved ones. Her eyes are a hazel shade of perfection. Her nose is a tiny button one. The cuteness flicks off her like the sun inflicts it’s light. The Aura she carries round with herself, I’ll admit, can have the daylights scared out of a person’s wits.
But then I see her at the gates of a pre-school, Lent against a rusty wall, or sometimes against her sleek black Range Rover. The smile that plays on her lips is all the evidence I had needed to see through the hard core exterior she holds.
The kids run out the building and one certain blue eyed angel like girl runs out and hugs her knees to the point where they would crush. Still she holds that magnificent smile only wider, looking down at the angel’s look a like kid. Every day, the angel latches herself to her like she was her everything and maybe she Was. I’d probably never know.
But as far as my human senses go, my assumptions must be right.
Everyday, she picks up the little angel and sits her in the passenger seat, she drives home.
In my prospect, she resembles this girl, who has been strong for too long and now It seems to be a habit. A well rehearsed habit that she never tones down for a single soul other than that little Angel .
Her walls are built up, strong and hard. The walls built of diamonds—unbreakable. She lustres throughout a large Crowd. The brilliance she holds, the Aura she leads, the leather jacket she shows up with.
On the other side of the door, the kindness she holds. And the smile that lights her face when at the front of the preschool gates, is all the evidence I’d need to define what she
A Hardcore Exterior Girl. That’s what she is.