Some Composition of Poetry On My Take On Soulmates

WORLDVIEWS APART. 

1. She had been like music,

    different from the notes her fingers played—

    —more sonorous—more enamoring

    Soft and like 'La Tranquilatis'

    She had whispered we'd meet again. 

2. He was obnoxious and stuck up,

    cursed by the patriarchy that influenced him,—

    harsh—domineering—and lonely.

    His eyes held longing and familiarity, occasionally even softness

    He was like a Renaissance painting, stuck in beauty, 

    thorns, and a penchant of life's cycle.

    He swore that we'd meet again.

3. You like playing music, but collapse when you can't control it.

    You're my ocean, rampant and wild, but holding an awful peace at times.

    You're like something—someone I've known for eternities.

    Your skin is palpable underneath my hand without me ever touching—

    Your voice is like a sonata that I've been searching forever for—

    Your eyes. Your eyes. Hold so much enamor that it is overwhelming and like petals of black roses clogging up my lungs and threatening to end my filthy self then and there. 

    A small sense of contentment fills my chest, nevertheless. 

    Next to you, I feel... 

    known. 

    I feel like we've met before.

Fin.