Blahhhhhhhhh

my lover, she’s got fire spilling out from her.

you call her your hurricane disaster but i see more than small waves, i see volcanoes erupting inside her. she glimpses the dark and names it, wears it, owns it even though it wraps itself around her. and she burns, somehow, despite everything that comes for her. she still has that fire that could level nations. she still has that spark even with everything that threatens to smother it. she is the current of molten iron that runs beneath the earth’s wide belt. she lasts. 

my lover, she’s fury. she makes tempests look tame. no, no natural disaster here: she’s just nature itself. of course you think she’s a passing shower. you don’t understand that some people are the ocean, the river, and the clouds above. sure, she’s your summer squall. but she’s also the fog bank you forget yourself in, the pond you swan in as a little kid, the mist over sulking islands.

she’s got trees growing in that spine of her. has soil in the lines of her palm. walks soft like moss, carries herself like a fairy. doesn’t know that her smile, her laugh, her small-of-the-morning stretch: they’re all gardens, erupting. maybe you see the forest of her. i see so much more.

no, my lover: she’s not your small weather condition, no passing blizzard, no tiny woods. my lover is expansive. the glow in her eyes speaks of dragonfly wings, of mountains in spring, of sunrises. she is lightning, sure: but she is also the taste of atmosphere right after, the scorch marks, the kiss that burns. 

if people were rainstorms, my lover is all of them: she is the first one you experienced, the ones you danced in as a kid, the one that sent your brakes to skid. if people were rainstorms, the wind they carry screams my lover’s name: she carries it in her blood, in her words, in her veins.

my lover is not just the breeze across the land. she is the land, the sky, the wisdom teeth. my lover is the whole world.

i taste the universe inside of her.