I was right to build walls. You were a thunderstorm — a hurricane of love and misadventures. Everytime I open my gates, you come marching in like a lion. I have wanted to strip naked and shower under your rain. But you smelled like blood, like murder. I was afraid my vulnerability will become my undoing. And it did.
The moment I bared my skin, my fears, my imperfections — the storm inside you subsided. You left me hanging naked with the cold, harsh wind blowing onto my body. I felt empty.
However, I have learned to appreciate the embrace of the void. This emptiness shall be my cup and with enough rain, be full again. I will welcome the storm the next time it arrives, but I will be wearing a raincoat.
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Moon Child | Ongoing
Poetry"Home isn't always four walls. Sometimes it's one warm embrace And two people's heartbeats as one. " - Moon Child (StarHues) Collection of poems mostly tackling about falling in love with someone out of your reach. Musings about the pain of unrequit...
