I feel past
his colourless eyes
and his chapped lips.
The faded glimmer of happy memories,
too obstructed by the scars of his story,
permanent.
It's a love with the power of a storm,
strong even in the absence of rain.
I read past his unspoken words and uncollected thoughts,
and see the incisive emotions he expresses through a fragile breath,
as his current expression is just an instance of the whole he completes.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
Her mind’s protected
By an armour of thoughts.
Irrational to the world
But brilliant in their existence.
She isn’t understood,
Crazy to most fools.
The delirious girl next door,
To whom haven must be brought.
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 1:30 PM UTC