She

She's a teal haired beauty
Gypsy soul
Carries leaving in her bones
Friday night scene-stealer
Rolling Stone
Always somewhere new to roam
So she runs
Like heaven itself is chasing her
Jesus, hot on her heels
And she steals
Mostly kisses
Sometimes hearts
She leaves them broken on the side of the road
She knows the devil loves to dance
And she'll gladly take her turn
Gives lessons on things she refuses to learn
Blazes trails through cities
Just to watch as they burn
And in turn
She'll plant a field full of wild flowers
Rebellion blood boils in her veins
A free spirit, chained
And oceans roil in her womb
Filled by fists
Friendships
Final words
She tastes of chaos and serenity
And whole worlds are present
In her battlefield eyes
Enough space to swim for eternity
In those midnight skies
Californian by way of Neverland
Citizen of nowhere
Chew you up, spit you out
Leave you discarded
She had it decided before you even started
Skinned knees
Tanned skin
And a rhythm in her toes
She was made for the places no else knows

Special thanks to my muse, the ever-stunning Miss Melissa-Anne de Obaldia. And to Jesialex Photography for the use of her AMAZING photo. Be sure to check out her page; she's doing a series this summer of girls with out-of-the-ordinary hair coloring and every shot is beautiful!