She fell first, but in her eyes he sees the stars
She fell first, but unto that cliff he came crashing
harder and eventually they're on par
She fell first, but he wanders
the late whisper of her sound, for he's already there laying on the ground
She fell first, her heartbeats fast, but his
are jumping like a feather clapping gust
On a lazy afternoon, she would looked at him first, he will looked at second
and the stares will linger longer with a smile so odd
On a rainy day, she would admire his voice but he
would crave for her humming noise
On a sunny day, she would wipe the sweat on his forehead, and he
would admire the way the droplets of water stays perfectly on her face
She fell first, but in her laughter he finds peace
She would looked at his hands, and see how big it is
he would looked at her hands, and sees a perfect space against his
She would sigh and dreams a weather with him
he would sigh and dreams anywhere with her
She would seize the moment of starry night and his embrace
And when a space suddenly appear she knew he would cry a river
And that's how she fell first
and he fell harder
YOU ARE READING
One Hundred Fifty
RandomFifty, Fifty, Fifty A writing challenge for myself is to create fifty poems, fifty essays, and fifty one-shot stories, every single prekeng day to make it a hundred and fifty days of honing my skills and giving sparks to my interest. Here's the deal...
