heart eyes

ocean

i met her when i was seventeen, and she sent me reeling. i lost my head, and she put it back on.

i thought about oh how lovely it'd be to run away with her, a life full of road trips and black leather jackets and wrists covered in string bracelets and the ocean and messy hair and holding hands and flipping the world off with our other ones.

i though that maybe she could heal my battle wounds, even if i got them fighting myself, and if she'd still love me because of it.

i thought that she could be the most perfect girl in the world, and felt pitiful for all the poor, deprived people who would never get to know her, and of how empty my life seemed before i met her, and how full of stars every second with her was.

i thought that maybe if things worked out i would have the honor to kiss her, not a thing more, because i couldn't help but stare at her lips when she talked and i swear i got high off them once. high or turned on. i can never tell the difference with her.

i'd say she's a drug but that's far too insulting. or maybe alcohol, but she makes me think clearly and i wasn't prepared when i fell completely under her influence. i never made the choice to drink her. my eyes just soaked her in, even when my brain told it not to.

i think that she is an ocean, with tides controlled by the moon because she loves the dark. waves that crash over and over again, so peaceful and so dangerous and i find myself wondering how a person can be so perfectly and beautifully contradicting. sand that gets everywhere, worth it because i love seeing those little parts of her scattered around my life where i least expect them.

she is far too good to be kept in this small universe, this small world, this small ocean, when there are so many others deprived of her touch.

she is the ocean, and the world is her ocean. funny, isn't it?