Music is great to listen to when you're writing. Gets my heart pumping and off of today, and into the void of feelings that I'm able to produce into this. What fun, neh? I'm sorry that I did this kind of fast. Please review!

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Beauty, in the eyes of the beholder, may mean several things.

'Beautiful' may be a fond pet name for a love, a form of artwork kneaded and sewed with care, or a reverie upon a slip of the mind. 'Beautiful' may be a promise, a statement, or a desire.

And sometimes it is nature to attain a title such as this, and it can be the base throughout your life for your futures and lifestyles. And yet, sometimes it is achieved through affliction and effort.

But there are other kinds of beautiful.

Feelings. Lies. Realizations. Words. Pride. Vision. Hope.

You, Winry Rockbell, are beautiful, and classified so in every state that my mind can establish. Every touch lingers through my dreams, every movement leaving reminiscence, mind dulled and drunk with your innocence.

… Not complete innocence. Wrenches hurt, though I guess it's my fault for setting you off… some of the time.

My heart's acceleration past sanity, your stead-fast determination. Passion. Addiction. Can you relate? My mouth is not capable of describing this static of our company.

You were there when I rose to the occasion of fulfilling a pact. You were there when I lost it all in a battle for control. You were there when I acted against adolescence. When I understood. When I fell. When I grew cold to your empathy and shied into the folds of my heart.

I'm ready to make amends.

Azure orbs, blond hair pooling on your shoulders, licking the ark of your back and descending and looping with the kaleidoscope steps you offer. Tears. Laughs. Scolds. Loves.

You're beautiful.

And not just the 'best friend' kind, either.