i was defeated

she was around five feets seven, magnetic and dark... she looked at me with those piercing eyes which clearly converyed don't-mess-with-me attitude which young people in their early twenties have. but she was trying to wear a countenance that was suspposed to be that of asking for help. the fire in those eyes was not helping the affectation anyways. her striking features, soft eyes, soft lips were defying the slot that destiny has chosen for her in the complex maze of the confusing social setup. and then her curves. her torn shirt accentuating the heaving of an amazing chest the way that seldom any austin reed could pronounce. absolutely flat and hard tummy which confirmed the hard way life has chosen for that rajasthani girl who somehow didn't come to my window to beg! maybe she saw my admisson in my eyes to the supremacy that she commanded over me which nature has bestowed her with even when my so-called social status begged to differ....

can beauty be poor?