Perfect Storm
She’s the kind of person who finds peace in rainstorms, hears music in thunder, sings in harmony with howling wind.
He’s the kind of person who uses lighting as his highlight and takes shattered bits of sky to sew into his security blanket.
Together, maybe they could be called the perfect storm, but when they held hands she was more of a sunrise and he was more of a sunset.
People are more than what they seem, and these two beings of chaos came together into tranquility.
This poem is about:
Me