Model Behaviour

She was everything I dreamt of, shaped through the mold of a crooked smile that awoken the butterflies nesting in her gentle womb, complimented with habitual lip biting out of nervousness through these sudden turn of events that shook her unexpectedly,

And I, felt the same as she did, breathing in each of her physical flaws and loving the fact that her imperfections made her who she was, because we both looked into mirrors that spoke to us differently contrary to the praise of others,
  
Gazing into the frames of what we deconstructed through eyes of much needed work, lose a few pounds here, nose job there, never content with a justifiable state of mind,

always dodging,

always running,

but every time we exchanged glances, our own opinions of self angst vanished into thin air through a familiar embrace,   

Running fingers over lost skin that stung our very existence, and it all made sense to me, kissing every unmistakable trait that sculpted her eccentricity while filing her under the category as some kind of wonderful,

And I knew that we were different from others, hiding something as individuals, but exposing ourselves wholly in the face of reality from accepting each other imperfectly, staring into fun house mirrors and laughing about our funny visions, together, without a care in the world…