To him, she was like the breeze;
Wild. Unruffled. But never constant
The strange kind. The piercing kind.
The kind that makes your eyes water.
The kind that tickles your skin like ice
Under the scorching heat
Relaxing. Dangerous. So vibrant

To her, he was all the four seasons,
Of the entire year;
Changing. Moody. Shifty. So dry. And oh-so lively.
And so beautiful. And yet so horribly terrible.

And they were a mistake they always made
And swear never to make again before they make it again.
Like a sin. So tempting to be made and so regretful when it's over.
Like an addiction. A promise not to indulge in again, before indulging in again.

He was a plethora of untold secrets under a blanket of stars
She was all the blues and greys of Nostalgia
They were a strange forbidden reminder of a never-forgotten past
A story revised but never concluded.
And the lesson never learned.