She is not pretty like that.

She’s not pretty like that. She’s not pretty like a perfect porcelain doll that’s sitting quietly on the glass shelf for people to see. She is pretty like a slash of thunder that shakes you for a brief moment. She is pretty like a fire crackling and dancing so fiercely. She is pretty like a mist that slowly swallows you whole. She is pretty like a wildflower on the roadside.

She is pretty like that, effortlessly, fearlessly, just by being.