When You Smile

There's this girl I know. She melts my heart to stone.
I saw her first in the winter, striding quickly down the street. Tear drops frozen on her cheeks and hands stuffed deep into pockets. The way she curled in on herself made her seem very small, kind of insubstantial, her body diminished by her far-away mind.
I paused to ask if she was okay. I want you to know that I tried to help her, but she brushed past me as though I didn't even exist. Maybe I was invisible in empty the snowstorm of her eyes.
The dark swallowed her up as she got further and further from me.
The rest of the night I walked the streets, wondering what could possibly have been on her mind.

I saw her again in the springtime. Laughter drew me to her. Loud, boisterous laughter that made me feel stupid for not laughing too. Everything was funny to her in the springtime. Someone asked her why. I was grateful for their curiosity. I needed to know too.
She replied, "Life is better when you laugh at everything."
Everyone agreed. Life was better watching her laugh at everything. She was magnetic. It was more than just charisma. When she smiled she was compelling. Demanding. Consuming. It was like the sun shone for her and the world spun around her. I have no words to describe her that would really do her justice. I guess you had to be there. Let me just say that I loved her when she smiled.
When our eyes met that day I could tell that she still didn't really see me. I was just one of many in a sea of admirers. But I could see her. I saw her quick and sexy and with the world around her fingers. Sarcastic and powerful and beautiful. I knew she could see what she did to people. I knew she liked it like that. She liked being everything to everyone.
She was like a glowing light trapped inside a perfect body. Like a powerful and terrible goddess, blindingly beautiful, irresistibly sexy, and merciless as the ocean.  A woman filled to exploding with life and secrets.
To be near her was to know how much better life could be. Her buoyant happiness was contagious.
Like moths to a flame we fluttered helplessly in her glow.

When I saw her again it was winter, though no more than a few days had actually passed. She was sitting alone on a park bench, quiet and contemplating. I could see her eyes begin to darken and the storm in her eyes begin to rage as depression took hold of her heart. With her once again diminished and blind to the world I could study her freely. She was nothing special really. That irresistible pull had vanished with the sun. Her body was average, her face plain, her hair kind of frizzy and poorly styled, her wrists scarred. Her clothes were lose and obviously intended to hide the slight bulge of her stomach. Her arms were crossed in defence of her heart.
In just a few days she had shrunk down to nothing but a sad, plain little girl.

I walked away. Not away from her, but away from this little circle of winter. I walked to the bench and sat down by her side. She met my eyes then, finally aware of my presence. I have no idea what she saw in me, but a wicked gleam flashed in her eyes and the air began to crackle as she turned it on. Lips half smiling and eyebrows raised, she dared me to say something, do something. Speechless I watched as light flared inside her. She smiled, and sex poured from her skin as the rain hammered down on us from a summer storm that began to rage in the sky above.