You are the hurricane,
The screaming banshee’s song,
He is the depths of the ocean,
Silent and unhearing.

He is the mountain,
Unyielding and steep.
You are the rain,
Forgotten in a day.

You are the violet
Hiding in the shadows,
He is the oak tree
Higher than the sun.

He is everything that is quiet,
Everything that is strong,
and unattainable, and beautiful, and wise.

And you, you are the mist…
You touch his face but briefly,
And then you are quickly burned away.

(Sometimes I feel like poetry is emotion…it should be raw and honest…though I think this one will need to be revisited, its flaws sanded off.)

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