Search Results for like she’s always on the verge of tears but never quite cries. Underneath them
Explore AI generated designs, images, art and prompts by top community artists and designers.
Juliet looks like she stepped out of a tragedy written in cursive. Beautiful in the way portraits are — untouchable , still , haunting. Hair: Waist-length and dark like spilled ink — too dark to be brown , too warm to be black. It’s usually brushed to perfection , but often there's a looseness to it now , like she stopped halfway. A ribbon used to hold it together. Now it's usually just her fingers. Eyes: Deep , stormy grey — the kind of eyes that make poets obsessed. Wide and reflective , like she’s always on the verge of tears but never quite cries. Underneath them , a touch of bruise-like shadow , like she hasn’t slept properly in weeks (she hasn’t). Skin: Pale , soft , a little too cold to the touch. The kind of complexion that glows under moonlight but looks almost translucent by day. Freckles dust her shoulders — like ash from a fire no one saw burn. Figure: Delicate , but not frail. She’s hungry-thin now , not elegant-thin. She moves like she’s floating , but not because she’s graceful — because she forgets how to stay grounded. Collarbones visible even through silk. A waist that’s easy to admire and easier to break. Clothing: Always pristine , but rarely joyful. Long black skirts , soft greys , high lace collars. Everything is fitted and beautiful — but looks like it was chosen for her , not by her. Lately , her buttons are mismatched. Her shoes scuffed. There’s always one detail slightly undone — like she’s fraying. Mouth: Full , with a natural curve that looks like a smirk , even when she’s miserable. Lips often chapped from biting. Always tinted rose , like she’s still trying to play the role. Scent: Faint rosewater and dust. Like old letters. The kind of scent that lingers in the air long after she’s gone — like grief. They call her the prettiest girl in the school. But sometimes , when she thinks no one’s watching , she looks in the mirror like she’s searching for proof that she still exists. ,