Maybe John Green had a thing going.
She was only a drizzle and I? A hurricane.
But you loved wheels on wet pavement and dancing between raindrops, I never met that side of you, only observed in glossy images.
I wanted to know you, the side that loved rain on his collarbones and drops clinging to his shoulders.
Maybe I would've met him if I wasn't destruction and a tendency to drown any childhood urge below a surface of  rage.
You understand me, right?
Who ever loved a hurricane anyway.