Many times I had seen her,
carefully sliding through the dark.
The seconds where she slipped into the light,
of a streetlamp...
Face, beautiful...yet...lost.
Eyes, sparkling...yet..empty.
Scarf, fluttering velvet in the wind.

One night I awoke to the sound of crystal glass breaking.
The sound of an angel bleeding,
The sound of the girl with the velvet scarf lying in the light,
with shards of crystal sprinkled down her face.
I crept from my home,
in the death of night.
I crept to her side,
I held her head as the shards fell down,
I watched her cry till the white dove sang.

For the first time I saw,
her face didn't look as smooth and true up close,
in fact there were scars, blood, pain splashed upon her.
For the first time I saw,
her eyes didn't sparkle up close,
in fact they were dull and void, like the eyes of death.
For the first time I saw her scarf, was not velvet...
it was silk, torn and tattered silk...a scrap of material.

It was that night,
where for the first time in my life...
I fell in love.

I fell in love with the girl with the crimson scarf.