“Maybe we should break up Again.” She said as she twirled her hair through her fingers on her left hand.
The hand that soothed his soul just days ago with a stroke so light it healed wounds wherever it landed.

The silent healer
The passive sponge
The fearful voice of reason
The quiet power that she is will come undone
Soon she will realize her strength and her longing to be let out
Soon she will rise up out of the darkness and shout out her desires
Right now though
It feels good to be locked up and silently fuming with greatness
Bubbling fermenting rumbling simmering with a power that is intensely introverted
Spiraling inwards as she asks herself why should I? how can I? where do I go after it all ends? am i good enough? am i enough? am i the one?
take a good look at yourself in the mirror darling and repeat after me...

Who else can but me?