'I am the one.'
She shouted.
Her shapely head fearlessly clear.
Straight backed, regal as a dawn swept alpine ridge.
The same clear air and awesomeness.
Elegantly flanked in expensive clothes.
Choice designs selected with a unimpeachable sense of style.
Daubed in luxurious creams.
Sparingly exacted in just the right amounts and places.
Married to a brain.
Speaking of inner circles, fashionable projects and family ties.
Just the right balance of grounded yet fabulously connected.
Mistress of her world.
Owning space between her and here.
Never shy, modest or mistaken.
Her eye on her end game.
Little Miss Perfect.
Perfect in everyway.
Skin deep and empty as a starving stomach.
Through which beats her human heart.
Fear's in her dark eyes.
Ruffles on a studied surface.
I wouldn't trust her, not as far as I could throw her.



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