he had eyes like the forest,
lively and a shade of green that could only be described as wild.
he spoke like the wind,
with freedom and flow to every word.
he laughed like the ocean,
waves rolling off of him as his eyes crinckled and my insides turned.
his arms, like the tide,
pulling me in whenever they reached.
yet,
he was no cupid.
he loved with an imperfection that will only ever be his own.
YOU ARE READING
restless: a poetry collection
Poesiathe thing about waiting for the rain to stop is that you don't know that it will. you could wait and wait and it could just rain and rain. sometimes, if you wait long enough, the rain will stop and the sun will shine. but sometimes the drizzle turns...
