She always rubs her mouth,
like there’s a secret she can’t say out loud.
Tracing her own lips to prevent a smile, a frown, or a tear.
Sometimes her real smile peeks through, but you can only see it in her squinted almond eyes; dark amber, and soft, just like that bashful grin.
Sometimes a frown shows when no one is looking, followed by a wistful sigh and a simple wipe of the palm across that silent mouth, trying to push the bad feelings and words away.
Sometimes tears roll past her knuckles; she fails to catch them at the source because she’s scared to wipe her eyes raw, so she brushes them away after they’ve fallen in the crook of her pink lips.
She always hides her mouth,
as if she’s afraid to speak.
She never faces you completely,
like you’re not worth her full attention.
Averting her cold gaze, she walks with a haughty, empty stride.
Even when her striking blue eyes are pointed at you, her chin is always tilted up and shoulder