He looked at her the way an artist looks at the sky.
Noting every inch of light flickering across her skin.
He internalized the tinkling sound of her laugh, letting it consume his essence,
like the song of a siren in a sailor's ear.
The way she moved mesmerized him.
She was the epitome of ease, a feather on the wind,
soft, dancing though the rays of sunlight.
He saw in her all things the artist feels.
Nostalgia, and harmony, and hope, and truth, and love, and brilliance, and sadness.
Every second he looked at her, he was overwhelmed with the feelings.
She was the sun, blinding him,
but he could not look away.
The sky was in her eyes and she had clouds in her hair
She was the end of his life and the beginning of his living.
No comments:
Post a Comment