You’re more than the sum of your parts.
Your form, as it travels through the air, is poetry in motion,
a poem written in the wind,
invoking a wide range of emotions,
from getting your blood pumping,
to getting your heart bleeding;
from jumping for joy,
to jumping in fear.
But unlike others, your beauty carries something soulful:
a memory.
My blood isn’t boiling over the heat you radiate alone;
I associate it with facing my nemeses.
My heart isn’t soaring because of the wings you give me;
it soars because I remember the excitement of a victory.
My tears aren’t welling because of your rainclouds spilling;
the pools form over the fall of a friend.
Had it not been for these memories,
you would have been nary a whisper,
facing a boundless flood of noise,
but even as I’m drowning in its vastness,
you, I will forever proudly hoist.
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC
You’re more than the sum of your parts.
Your form, as it travels through the air, is poetry in motion,
a poem written in the wind,
invoking a wide range of emotions,
from getting your blood pumping,
to getting your heart bleeding;
from jumping for joy,
to jumping in fear.
But unlike others, your beauty carries something soulful:
a memory.
My blood isn’t boiling over the heat you radiate alone;
I associate it with facing my nemeses.
My heart isn’t soaring because of the wings you give me;
it soars because I remember the excitement of a victory.
My tears aren’t welling because of your rainclouds spilling;
the pools form over the fall of a friend.
Had it not been for these memories,
you would have been nary a whisper,
facing a boundless flood of noise,
but even as I’m drowning in its vastness,
you, I will forever proudly hoist.
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