Kolai by Ava M.

 

Her name was Kolai.

She was ice, with a fire behind her eyes. Her age was a foggy number, hidden with makeup and lies. Perhaps late twenties, but it was difficult to be sure. She was candy; sweet and delicious, but too much of it would instantly make you sick. The woman, graceful, twisting, changing, never the same person. A beautiful woman, with a demure smile, but something is missing. Something is always off, always hidden.

She had honey brown long locks, done up, crowning her head loosely, a pale green dress that complemented the coldness of her eyes. Gorgeous ice blue eyes. There was something behind her eyes that makes you wonder what she has done, but then she gives you a smile, a smirk, swiftly flashes her teeth, and suddenly, you don’t want to know. You are afraid of the answer. She spoke quietly, yet commanded the room. She was a siren, pulling you in, pulling you willingly to your doom.

She was sharp like a diamond, a hidden gem formed under pressure that could easily cut you open. Cut you until you emptied out your secrets, cut you until you bled, cut you, along with everything you loved. You could tell this just by looking closely, but no one ever looked close enough.