First are the clouds,
you can see them in his eyes,
or more in the way he moves them. Slow, as if to take everything in.Next is lighting
That's the way he moves
Quick and blinding
But still precise.Next is the thunder
His loud voice
Saying exactly what he thinks
I've never heard him quiet.The winds rush in
And push back his hair
It falls and rises with each move
And doesn't stop for anyoneThe sky turning a new color
That's just his words
Changing and bending what's true
And blurring the lines between themThis is how everyone sees him
A force of nature.
Powerful. Unstoppable.
But they don't stay for the rain.It falls down his face at night
When he confesses to me
He isn't as profound as people think
And I disagree full heartedlyIn moments like this he feels weak
When his clouds spill rain
and his winds turn to cries
And his thunder dies downBut I can't agree
Because here in the eye of the storm
At his most vulnerable
He seems more powerful than ever
YOU ARE READING
The Ramblings Of A Bisexual // Poetry Anthology
Poetrya compilation of poems written by yours truly. A tribute to violently swinging both ways with no end.