She is not a flower or a miracle,
But a human with a heart raw and soft.
She is prettier than any blossom,
spread across my garden,
For she never wilt nor held a thorn.
She dared and she cared.
Into her eyes that shone,
I couldn't gaze out for a second.
I could hear her heart,
Throbbing in lullabies,
A rhythm I found my comfort in.
Her smile could lit up my sky,
Illuminating the grey to blue.
If you read my breaths mumble,
You'd know it's the song of your name.
This poem reminds me how much she meant to me. It's about looking for love but never really getting over.
