Her (Pronouns)

Her
Her eyes are like no other.
They are not simply windows to her soul,
They are doors to her heart.
These doors mimic shades of: trees, grass, holly,ivy,emerald
shining like that of no other.
If she smiles, when she smiles, it as if time is caught in a tango,
debating whether to speed up in order to see what's to come or slow down
just so the moment never ends.
Her way is different from any other.
It's what keeps this limp heart beating.
It's what keeps this wheel turning.
What keeps this dreamer dreaming.
Her is more than she see's.
Beauty beyond the naked eye, even if stripped of ego, ignorance, judgment, and fear.


Loving her is not the hard part.
Debating when to kiss her ruby lips.
Wondering when to grab her hand when her palms are too shy.
Knowing when to hold her because of the monsters on the screen and the ones in her dreams.
Seeing when her words slip from her tongue and she just needs you to sit in silence, listening to her heart beat at a rate almost as fast as your own.
Having her face blanket your chest as her earrings leave imprints that you wish would stain your skin for the rest of the night.
Touching that imprint just so you can remember the feel of her breath as she dozes off or the wrinkle of her noise when she's fighting to stay awake longer than you.


Loving her is the easy part.
Realizing she's the only BS you ever want to “put up” with.
Hearing the way her laugh creates music better than that of the musician's hand.
Staring at her while she sits doing the everyday things that become extraordinary simply because she's effortlessly doing them.
Falling in love with the inanimate things around her like the shirt she finds more comfy than your arms or the pants that hug her as she sits in a fetal position on the couch.
Kissing her so that her lips mold into yours.
Going back for another kiss because the first was such a tease.
Waiting for her to doze off after making love just so you can think of the ways her soul feels like home.
Feeling the warmth she brings to the souls around her, radiating like the sun and shining like the stars.
Loving her is the easy part.


The hard part is
steadying her hand so she doesn't feel the urge to pierce her shield
watching her critique the very lines of her body that you find yourself tracing over in awe
seeing her cry in indecisiveness
watching her dance with shades of black tar detachment
seeing her cut the strings of caring, emotion
watching as she runs the tightrope just to avoid the crash of mind,heart,body, and soul
knowing that she is no longer so sure of forever
knowing she bites her tongue on bad days
not knowing when your words matter
not knowing when she wants to go in for the kiss this time
not knowing when she wants to say I love you if she wants to say I love you if she needs to say I love you
not knowing when she sees the cuter stranger who flashes smiles of adventure, rebellion, easiness, charm, and freshness.


The easy part is
steadying her hand so she doesn't feel the urge to pierce her shield
watching her critique the very lines of her body that you find yourself tracing over in awe
seeing her cry in indecisiveness
watching her dance with shades of black tar detachment
seeing her cut the strings of caring, emotion
watching as she runs the tightrope just to avoid the crash of mind,heart,body, and soul
knowing that she is no longer so sure of forever
knowing she bites her tongue on bad days
not knowing when your words matter
not knowing when she wants to go in for the kiss this time
not knowing when she wants to say I love you if she wants to say I love you if she needs to say I love you
not knowing when she sees the cuter stranger who flashes smiles of adventure, rebellion, easiness, charm, and freshness.


And still loving all of her shades of green and black.
Still holding her as that waves makes an unexpected rise and nearly drowns you.
Still watching for the unpredictably predictable moments that inspire your inner prose and artistry.
Still doing the happy dance when you get to cook her a new dish as she sits in that very same indecisiveness.
Choosing her BS even while she suspends over a rain cloud of black tar detachment
grabbing an umbrella and dance through this rain because you've seen that very sun she shines.


I am telling you Loving her is the easy part because she could turn a deaf man into a musician and a blind man into a believer
Loving her is the easy part because even in her dark shades she paints a rainbow around my heart.
And my God, by God, I love her.