She was not born a universe. She has no stars in her eyes. (A fiery storm rages inside). Her hair is not charcoal. Nor violet. Nor blue. (A messy kaleidoscope dances, see through). She is not your home. Not your mother baking treats. She is the storm you hide from. The lightning you fear. She is the rain you dance in. The thunder you hear. She is not far out in space. She is right by you, here.
I may not be born a universe,
But baby I'm a hurricane.
~I am your most beautiful mistake
[A/N: not completely satisfied with it, so I might edit it later when my lazy ass decides to do something for once.]
YOU ARE READING
Words of Ink
ПоэзияOne word. I fell in your trance, sucked into your inky depth. Two words. You drew me in, my attention rapt. Three words. I laughed, I cried, I knew Four words. that you were just a word of ink. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~...
