This girl does not love herself,
but she loves me, I think, and I thank her for it,
everyday…or I do in my head.
I don’t want to invade her thoughts,
push my affection onto her,
She fears it you see, she thinks she’s unworthy.
But, I love her all the same
and try not to suffocate her with it.
She is fierce but vulnerable in a way that makes me
terrified for her.
She is strong, her roots planted firmly in the ground,
but the wrong blue-eyed hurricane will rip her from this earth.
Her beauty transcends type and genre,
Her hair tumbles around her face,
like a Rossetti painting of Venus.
And her eyes are my favourite shade of green.
Her lips…I’ll not talk about those because she’s just a friend.
I’ve seen her aura, its orange and grey and shines and shatters,
But, I know her soul and she is not as broken as she thinks.
She just needs less of a hurricane, and more of a sunny afternoon.