She’s like a bird.
She lives in the trees, among the murmur of the evergreen leaves. Sometimes she hides in her secret nest and sometimes she squeals and hopes to be heard. Gracefully, she flutters above the clouds and travels with the wind. She dances in the air to the rhythm of her pounding heart.
Free and careless. She can sing beautiful melodies, magnificent little symphonies—unaware of how they charm the miserable lovers, longing for a faint touch of her glossy feathers every time she crosses the sky above their heads.
Wild and intangible. If you try to reach her and come too close, she’ll spread her wings and fly away before you even blink. Before you capture her vibrant heart.
Sometimes, if you’re lucky, she’ll land on your shoulder and let you admire her electrifying beauty. With one balletic move, she’ll cast a spell on your soul and drop you to your knees. She’ll make you suffer blissful torments and you will cry for more.
Be careful, greedy lover. She’s got wild blood coursing through her veins. Don’t try to own her, buy a golden cage with a little golden key and put tiny golden chains on her smooth, frail wings. She’ll rise above the highest of fences, no bars in the windows or the thickest walls will keep her from speeding away.
Don’t try to stop her. She’ll shit on your head and scratch your eyes out with her claws.