She lives in a way that burns your eyes. She breathes like an animal, loves like only the most foolish humans can, breaks like glass. She's strong like iron, flexible like plasticine.
She lives with sunsets and sunrises, with caught breaths, with the sound of pouring rain. With the love of a lover, with the rage of a volcano, with the softness of a meadow.
She's the throbbing of your heart when you see someone you love. She's the adrenaline that flows through your body when you defend your loved ones or do something you're not allowed to do. She's the anxiety of not knowing what to do. She's the warmth that graces your skin on a sunny day, and the feeling in your stomach when you're about to leave a place.
She gives and she never asks. She goes and she never hesitates. She's not afraid of breaking - whether it be her skin, bones or her heart. She lives with anxious rambling, with trembling hands and throbbing chests and shallow breaths.
She inhales sadness and despair and anxiety and exhales love. With every word she speaks, with every thought her mind creates, with every touch she gives – she does it with power and grace, with passion and extreme softness, with strength and determination.
She is bright and dangerous like the sun.
Her breaths are rays of sunlight and her words are stardust. She is never the one you're looking for. She's the one you didn't know you wanted to find.
YOU ARE READING
CREATING CONSTELLATIONS
Poesía"We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellation...
