The Storm.

Our love was like the seasons. They came and they went. However, I loved you like the Summer, where the sun was bright and it’s rays were warm. But you loved me like the Winter, where the air was cold and the dark covered the skies. I tried to make our love form into Spring or Fall, where both of our ends would meet, but the ice around your soul wouldn’t allow a little light inside your world. You were afraid of melting underneath my touch, to actually be loved by someone like me. Instead you developed a storm, one that would rip through the walls of the place we called home. I tried to hold the pieces together, but the blizzard was far too strong for one person to handle. It tore the windows off the hinges, the paintings off the walls. I felt my world crumble underneath my feet as the ground shook in anger. My knees became weak as I dropped to the floor with tears in my eyes, hoping it would be over. But that’s the thing, every storm has it’s end. I waited patiently and in silence, until the gushing winds from outside came to a stop and the rattling from the house stood still. I opened my eyes and saw the snow gently fall in from the outside world. It landed in front of my feet as if it were trying to give me comfort. When I looked around I saw the damage that was done and immediately tried to fix it, but it was too late. You were already gone. I stood in the center of the room. Tears began streaming down my frozen cheeks, along with the aching feeling inside my chest once I figured out you were never coming back. The memories were fragmented images of what use to be of us. That’s why our love was like the seasons. I loved like Summer. Beautiful skies and fresh air. But you honey, you loved like Winter. Cold hearted with dangerous intentions. 

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