Perfect Storms

Words can’t describe the perfect storm cleansing my mind

as I look into the muddy puddles you call your eyes.

I think about how you called me beautiful

and how much I reveled in the tumult of fluttering wings

That yearned to rise and break free, the day you called me yours.

They say that love is a drug

and I am beginning to believe them.

Love is the sound of birds chirping in the morning.

It’s the prickling pain that is brought by the needle

from your yearly flu shot.

The morning rain rolling down your windshield

resembling the tears you cry

the first time that you fight.

Love is when you feel like you could break at any moment,

but something keeps piecing you back together.

Sometimes you may wonder

why you allow these emotions to fall upon you;

and honestly, I don’t even have that answer.

You just have to go with the motions;

Let your soul lead the way.

Let the perfect storm continue on

and never back down from love.

She preys on her victims;

she will consume you from the inside, out.

But don’t buckle under the pressure.

And as these showers continue to dance around my brain;

as you grace my eyes with your beautiful smile,

I’m not even sure you can call this love,

but I won’t let go.

Tornados and earthquakes can shake the ground beneath us.

But I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.