He threw himself into my body and soul
asking to be let in
and I let his destruction rest inside me
telling myself that love hurts
and it shouldn't have,
it shouldn't hurt.
He, the meteor, with his mighty fire trail, blazes across space and time
and sometimes it's even brighter than the sun.
He tells me that he may be a destructive mass, but he is passion and I am the ocean
ever-calm and waiting, waiting, waiting,
for something to just happen,
but it never does.
Because struggling and agonizing has no part in my existence,
and he may be giant and burning,
but he will go out with a bang,
flaming and smoking
until death on dirt ground
and I will lay here
immortal,
patient.
The calm before the storm.
YOU ARE READING
BOYS
Poetryto: all the boys who have broken hearts and left dry stars in their wake.
