Her. -A poem by me. (summer)

She is so pretty. 

Her words are soft and strong spoken,

Her eyes are amber like a rusted bronze token.

Her chestnut colored hair is straight and long,

Her words peirce my heart, like a lost song.

She spoke to me first that day, 

It was raining and the cloud were gray,

“Even if you have no friends, at least the rain cries with you.”

I’ve always felt this way about her,

I’ve never felt more or less. 

I can’t tell if I have more than platonic feelings for her,

But when I’m with her I feel so high,

My words begin to twist and slur.

I think she might be my new favorite person.

Even though she’s interested in a country bum,

I’ll still support her, and hope my feelings don’t grow wrong.

My soul feels light and starts to flutter,

When her hand grasps my cheek,

My hands become clammy with the texture of butter.

Why am I so nervous?

That is a question I continue to ask, 

Have my feelings grown fast?

Even though I tried so hard to have them stay platonic,

My feelings grew for her, like a weed in a sidewalk crack.

-Vesper