How does she stand there?
A smile as beautiful as a warm sunny day,
But the expression on her face tells a different story.
Looking, not blinking, yet not a tear in her eye
I’ve seen it coming for a while now, a storm is approaching,
Yet I don’t escape this threat, instead I move towards it.
Though I am stunned by those eyes, I cannot look away.
Holding onto my breath, anticipating her next move.
I know what she’s going to do, but I still lean in closer.
Arms open for her, ready for that deadly blow to my heart.
My heart feels weary when I’m not next to her.
Then again, it feels wrong when I’m holding her close.
After all, false love prevails over my weak heart in the end.
The storm I knew about and still walked toward won’t be the end of me.
Although, I am hopeful the pain will be fast, nether the less, it will be pointless.
Because this will, perhaps, be the last time I hold her in my arms.
It does not mean she will not still be around.
My heart will be scarred from this false love.
And for that she will always be with me, a part of me.
A memory, just another storm, moving on, to devastate yet another heart.
She may be back, I know she will, I swear she will return.
But next time, my heart will listen.
I’ll be ready for the storm for which I loved for which I was not prepared,
And she won’t see it coming, my love, my storm for her
How does she stand there?