You call yourself cold,
Though you're my temperature
You say you're hard to read,
Though I ask, you'll tell me.
We share secrets like one would talk about the weather,
But over and over again,
And I'm enthralled in this thunderstorm
As we dance around the bonfire,
And then sleep to the rain.
We are supposed opposites,
Though we're alike as
Our energies collided and bring out the essence of each other,
And we are natural.
2.18.20
YOU ARE READING
My Voice
PoetryMy name is Camille, and this is my story. I wish it were a happier one, though it's the truth. My life has and is a journey of finding my voice, standing up tall, and moving forward.
