the freckles on her cheeks were the light of the stars, her bright amber eyes the corpses of the moon, and her raven hair was the sky, encased with clouds, that fell like a waterfall past her face.
she was the most vibrant and colourful of sunsets, and the most enticing and mysterious of pitch black skies.
eyelids closed to reveal dark eyelashes, shaped like half crescent moons against pale skin, the vivid pink of cheeks glinting warmly as they caught the light from the distant planets, lips tinted red with the paint palette from roses.
she was the buzz of red wine, bloody in colour, and the bubble of champagne, bright and loud, dancing on the tongue.
mountains helped shape her, and streams coursed through her veins, fuelling her mind and her body, her soul alive with the spirit of the nature, a wild fire alight in the pit of her chest, making eyes burn with ferocity and ambition.
she was the storm and the breeze, the rain and the sun, the moon and the stars, all at once.
she was thunderstorms.
she was hurricanes.
she was everything she wanted to be,
and everything she could be.
she was a wildfire,
and no amount of water could ever put her out.
- excerpts from a story i'll never write.
YOU ARE READING
SMALL TALKS
Poetryfind me when the oceans collide and the sky bleeds red COVER ART BY KELLY MAKER
