She speaks of the legends of the moon like she existed before time.
She names the stars like she was present during the creation.
She dreams of unicorns, talks of mermaids.
Who is this girl? I daily try to master her mind.
It’s as bottomless as the Milky Way, and equally beautiful.
She has in her step, the spring of a deer.
She walks with the grace of a giraffe.
She is as fragile as she is strong
She laughs in her sleep,
I want to know, who colors her dreams?
Do I intrigue her as she does me?
I will never know,
she chooses to speak only of fictional characters
and compares me to a one ‘Heathcliff’ from a classic.
She likes to argue, just for the fun of it.
Now I am no writer, but I had no idea what I signed up for
when I hopelessly fell for a girl who reads.
-Frustrated Lover turned Poet
“In every cloud, in every tree -filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded by her image! The most ordinary faces of men and women -my own features- mock me with a resemblance.” -Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights.
Title credit: A lover that got frustrated