This kind of love
His lanky arms around her waist,
Grey orbs focuses its attention on her
The corners of his lips tilts just slightly upwards
She notices his legs are shaking
His hair sitting still,not messily
“My person” she thought...walking away
Remembering the speech of her womb sharer,
“Everyone has his person”
She sat on the cold surface of the counter top
With the whistling of the kettle in the corner
Arms around her knees in attempt to comfort herself,
She thinks
“What type of love exists here?”
She was quite cynical about it
Rebuking all pronouncements of love
Confusion and dislike reigned in her head
She felt lost.
Determined to find this “person”
Turning her neck slightly,
Her orbs come in contact with his
Flashbacks and thoughts flow in
She would miss him in her spare time.
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