...And then there was her, the Hurricane.

I could be dark
The kind night would need, to sleep closing eyes to
The kind stars would welcome replacing the sky anew
The kind that looks at you and your secrets come undone
The kind death would cuddle as a baby next to.

I could be a storm
The kind that comes and goes often, no inhibitions
The kind Nostradamus would have had a hard time fathom into illustrations
The kind that sweeps past and life breathes in a sigh of resurrection
The kind sea would go down on knees for, pleading unison.

I could be fragrance
The kind that unlocks memories set to flames
The kind sweat would stream down his brows to unite with, it's personal suicide mission
The kind that re-instills faith in love even when the rose lies crushed, end of game
The kind happiness has, trapped in the neck of his sweater awaiting the first winter kiss to liberation.

Or

I could be that one dark storm
That sets free your dementors
Redefines your infinities
Annihilates your fears
And leaves you with a fragrance
That you'd walk in search of
For eternity.

© 2013 Neha Choudhry