She made messy look beautiful. Enamored the world.
Her brunette curls framing her face.
She wore her winged eyeliner and rich mocha lipstick as war paint.
The freckles on her cheeks were like stars decorating the night sky.
Her messy-I-don’t-even-care look had men and women falling head over heels for her.
She wore her mischievous smile like her little black dress.
Her nylon stockings had the world rocking.
Her etiquettes and half smoked cigarettes.
She was the sin that prayer couldn’t fix.
She was the miracle of flames left behind after dusting ashes.
She was the promise of demons befriending angels.
The allure of dark and the promise of light.
The she of all poems.
The she of all ages and all faiths.
The one and only.
Illustration by Pedro Tapa