his eyes looked to me in riddles
meaning simplicity at its finest
only to be interpreted as unsolved mysteries
his words spoke to me the world
the existence of its irrevocability
only to grasp at vulnerability
his hands lent to me the broken pieces
glued together
only to learn they were being held by air
YOU ARE READING
But we're just beautiful people with beautiful problems
RomanceThe Colour Series: Red Poems