He fell in love the way she was.
How she walked.
Talked, the way she laughed.
The way her hair moved in sync with her navy uniform skirt. that was not shorter but an inch longer.
She was her self no one else.
She always tried to make others laugh, smile.
It was tough sure. Their peers were tough. Had layers and you had to break them one at a time.
But she tried.
Failed.
Was shoved.
But she smiled and got up again.
Again he loved her more and more every day.
More than the shining sun and the poring rain.
Because she was like a light and she brought colorfulness like the rain.
He loved her more than ever. day after day, day in day out.
She noticed him
and to her
He was the stars and the moon. Shone in the dark and was mysterious.
And she loved it. How he never had 7 layers but was honest and truthful.
She loved his spiky brown hair. It was always messed up. like he ran his fingers though it day after day. so it was perfect like it was.
His eyes were dark not black or brown but blue. like the night sky. when she rested and he came out to finish her uncompleted work.
But the two.
Were only
Two figures in a bed time story in a child's stormy mind. of scribbled and new ideas. For the lost lovers of mystery and kindness, the sun and the moon. Were the child's yes and it's no.
So neither was good and not too bad. But was always tier to catch each other. As well as to help the child to find their own sun and moon rain and stars.
