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Her skin isn't like gold,
And her cheeks ain't ruby.
Her hair doesn't glow as the sunset
And her eyes aren't as blue as the ocean.
But her heart shattered my barriers
Entered my soul and read in it like an open book.
Her brain worked with mine, challenging logic and reason
And what I like isn't the color of her eyes
But the sparkle in it when she talks.
What I like isn't the color of her cheeks
But the shy smile that comes with.
What I like isn't the color of her hair during golden hour
But the way she puts her hand through it.
What I like is just the way she stands by me
Whatever happens all around.
I can't compare her to jewels or the sea
When she's a fire burning with passion,
A flower that only opens on the moonlight.
∽
VOUS LISEZ
Le son de la pluie
Poetry•{Plusieurs poèmes écrits sans but précis, sauf peut être celui de vous faire ressentir des émotions, bonnes ou mauvaises.} •{On dit souvent que ressasser les mauvais souvenirs n'est pas une bonne chose. Moi, je pense que chacun est libre d'en faire...
