e l e n a
she was fragile and beautiful and soft in her beauty, her skin was porcelain and her hair dripped gold and elegance. her eyes were the colour of cinnamon and glass fragments travelled in her veins. her lips were the colour of unripe cranberries. her mind was a wonderful and dark place to be, full of silhouettes and gardens lost in darkness. her heart was filled with insanities and cities on cold nights; her hands were as frail as the delicate ice that rose up on frozen lakes.
h i m
he was described as an oxymoron: his entire existence was a contradiction. his hair was dyed a dark shade of purple with roots three inches thick and his jeans were endlessly trailing in puddles from the rain he adored and he liked to watch people.
and they bonded over things old like
book shops and
vinyls and
lace
and the rain
"don't forget the rain," he whispered.
YOU ARE READING
Where Stars Collide *ON HOLD*
Poetry//Don't kiss me if you're afraid of thunder, my life is a storm// her name was elena and he had none they both had a strange passion for rain and whatever their souls were made of, they were the same. [currently on hold due to exams, however thanks...
