inspired by a newspaper

it's the golden hour. you know, the time of day when the sun washes everything in gold? it's that time. i watch elle's bike weave back and forth on the wide open street in front of me. her path reflects the way she lives her life, swerving and crossing back and forth, touching people's lives and then lurching away as fast as she's come. elle tips her head back and closes her eyes, letting the sun cast over her careless smile. that's how she is. careless. crashing into lives and veering away, leaving them to clean up the destruction she's left in her wake. and here i am, a few feet back, watching. it isn't her fault. it's just who she is. she's chaos. she's magnetic. she makes you feel like maybe you're going to be the one who can finally hold her down. she makes you feel like you're the special one, holding your stare with her wild, hypnotic eyes. she makes you believe it. i don't think anyone that's loved elle has regretted it. she embeds herself into your mind, your body, so that you start molding yourself around her, until she disappears, called by her wandering mind, leaving your empty shell of a self. but you don't regret it. you thank her for making you the way you are. because even a little bit of elle is worth it.