Wednesday, 31 August 2016

Her

Her hair was on her eyes,
Twisted and swirled at fine lengths;
Each time her head would turn,
they'd fit around her shoulders with perfection..

This other kind of perfection..
with no measures, parallels - no absolution.
Every idea, every happenstance
centered around her
reverberated in its own charm,
serendipitously bound in her aura-
catching eyes and melting hearts.

My disillusionment, or..
Her.

No comments:

Post a Comment