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I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible and when I'm done with you. You will finally understand why storms are named after people.
You were born with thunder rumbling from between your lips.
Your words were learned to be feared.
the promise of being trapped in the rain was too frightening for anyone to listen.

You were a flower that had begun to wilt,
covered by the shade of those towering above you,
and when they stole the last ray of light,
you learned to become your own sun.

Lightning shown in your golden-brown eyes.
Fierceness and a refusal to take any odds into consideration.
You struck hearts into beating again,
you struck minds into thinking again.

Your soul is a flood raging over hills. You are washing down every crevice of the world;
drowning and sweeping away things that will never measure to your strength.

You are a Californian wildfire.
Beautifully destructive and distinctively fearless.
You are crackling heat in valleys where thirst will never be quenched.
Don't be offended when they turn away,
some people just can't take the heat.

You have grown into a refusal to let the natural disasters inside of you sit still.
You have taken every ounce of nothingness that you felt and turned it into a brewing storm.
We will hear that thunder rolling from your lips this time.

Sonnets were written about your icy smile years before you were born.
Poets know the beauty of a powerful earthquake that could send cities crumbling,

Everyone knows the beauty of a powerful woman that can send worlds crumbling.
 Nov 2014 Alexandria Meister
Jay
Because his eyes shone like starlight and his lips felt like the moon.
His hips crashed like comets; like meteorites falling from the sky. Constellations disguised as freckles across his shoulder blades and the cosmos coated his fingertips.
Our breaths were shallow as we fought to regain air while our tangled legs formed the Milky Way.
His words carried me to Mercury, Neptune, and every **** planet in between while his smile pulled me towards galaxies light years away, whisking us off into the blissful unknown.
Not that great yet, needs some work
J.D.

— The End —