She

She likes to watch the rain as it pours down breaking the clouds accompanied with streaks of bright lightning. On the nights when she can’t fall asleep, she listens to sad songs that speak of the same things she writes tirelessly about. She plays with fire and ice but never with water, because she’s afraid the sea might swallow her whole someday.

She likes to believe in unrealistic things like soulmates and true love, so she daydreams until she has to catch up with reality. She could easily live a life made of handwritten poems and starry nights. But she wouldn't want to miss out on the typed out stories and rare sunset hours. Though she finds comfort in the same repetition of days mixed with nostalgic memories, deep inside she really craves for change.

All her conversations lack depth and attention. She only wants to hear from the people who don’t have time for her anymore. She is still in love with those who have irreparably broken her. It’s stunning.

An open book is still somehow a complete mystery.