She is perfect,
not because she tries,
but because the universe bends
to mirror her grace.
Classy
like a sip of silence in a noisy world,
like the moonlight
that never asks for attention
but owns the night.
Her smile
it does not just stay on her lips,
it lingers in the room,
on my skin, in my thoughts,
as if it were painted there forever.
She walks
and time forgets to count seconds,
the world holds its breath,
and I learn what elegance truly means.
She is perfect,
because no one else can be her.
She is classy,
because even in my wildest dreams,
she remains untouchable
a work of art only my heart
has the privilege to know.
