Her voice trickled like
A clear blue mountain stream
Her hands traced gentle circles
Like quiet ripples on a pond
He was the sound of a
Rumbling dark storm
His hands callused and rough
Arms like the trunk of an oak
Somehow the nymph and the treant Found each other
Tangled in the roots
His words shaking the earth
Hers soothing it down
They completed nature
One had what the other lacked
It seemed to be a perfect match
But alas
When two
Tried to be one
They found they could
Only tear each other apart
His rough touch never meant to hurt
And her sweet tears were only
The symphony of her love
But with all his good intentions
He brought her pain
Branches piercing through her soul
And finally decided
He wanted to let her go.
She disentangled from his roots
As he insisted he needed a different river
A little more wild
A little less sweet
YOU ARE READING
Notes
AcakA glimpse into my mind. These are notes from my phone, starting from 2013 to the present day. My poems, rants, late night thoughts, things I've seen and heard, words I wanted to remember. (Note: There is some content hinting at various mature or tri...
