His soul is Like a most gentle sluice of lucid brook water to soothe your wounds. Like the dewy rain drops that dribble into your arid throat like revival. Like the curious bluebird, forever remaining on the fence as he chirps his carefree melody. Then he stops to listen readily and share minimally. A jolly idealist blurring the lines between fantastic and realistic, the swiftest sweep away from conflict you nearly miss if you blink, he avoids it like the plague. A fastidious artist working hastily, while taking frequent pauses to daydream about the blue moon. His head-in-the-clouds disposition is the most enamoring jigsaw it makes you question your disdain for puzzles. He doesn't pray to a God, but he practices people pleasing like a sacred religion. They say there are plenty of fish in the sea, but this one leapt up onto your burning shore and you readily sprang toward the deep end of his hidden whirlpool. But you must learn patience. He'll keep you on his sparkling seafoam surface as you wait to submerge yourself into his cavernous depths.
Her soul is Like a sprightly meteor gaining velocity as she leaves you in dust. Like an omniscient alien who never cares to disguise her extrinsic demeanor. Another world brought to you through electric green eyes, Revealing a mass of kooky contradictions, her oddity compels you to gravitate into her space. A bitingly blunt and accurate analyst swirled around a hypnotically hypocritical rotation of madness. Her sins are written all over her body. Still, she reads them aloud to you as she beams with celestial pride, shining more brilliant than a shooting star. While remarkable, her inordinate luminosity often causes eye strain and aching temples for those who stare too long. So she receives surface-level appreciation from many but true acceptance from few because she's never fit in to any crowd the way she snuggly fit in to your arms like a sense of belonging she's never known. It's foreign and frightening. Fight, flight or freeze? Her face set in stone while her mind is on ecstasy. ... flight. always. She fabricates a cynical game of hide and seek to test your psychic abilities. Somedays she longs to wrap herself up in your warmth to thaw the iceblock in her chest. Somedays the heat of your exhalation alone is too hot. Enough to smother her cool air. She levitates back to space. Count to ten but never chase her. The only way to capture this spiritual being is to let her go because she is first and foremost, a free woman. And when she feels freedom, she latches on to it.
A love story inspired by The Zodiaco Collection by feminist poet, Brooke Solis.
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