She was chaos,
But in a beautiful way.
She was a flock of birds
Suddenly rising from the trees,
Moving simultaneously together and apart.
She was the sun breaking the horizon,
Throwing the day in all directions at once,
Blinding you when you could not tear your gaze away.
She was the last chorus of cicadas
At dusk on a summer evening,
Rising and falling and pulsing with life
Until the song died in the darkness.
She was the waves crashing into the shore,
Roaring and pounding the sand and then gently receding with a whisper and a kiss.
She was a cold winter rain
Settling between your bones like ice,
Burning your skin like razor blade tears
Before she was the fire itself,
Blazing in the hearth of your soul,
Filling all your corners with warmth and light.
She was the Tower—
But also the Star,
Reducing you to rubble before you even saw it coming,
Your destruction sealed with a single sigh from her lips.
And in the same breath, she made herself into the bricks for you to lay a new foundation,
Not caring at all where she ended and you began.
She was chaos,
But in a beautiful way.
And she was yours.
She was.