You get this look in your eyes when you talk about something you're passionate about, and I regretfully watch it die down like a fire without oxygen when worry and stress become your close friends.
And that's all you are; a hurricane. A hurricane with a pair of bright eyes begging to be stopped before you cause anymore destruction And these are the eyes that lead me straight back home.
I take cover in the sidelines, helpless, not knowing how to help you. I have a habit of falling in love with natural disasters. And that's all you are and maybe nothing more. You're an assortment of fragile bones and mangled thoughts.
But despite your acquaintance with pain, and if I didn't believe in a God,
I would have been a strong believer that you put the stars and moon in the sky.
It's about time you start listening to your head: you may not be in control of what you feel, but you are in definite control of how you handle these destructive feelings. Just promise me you'll take good care of yourself when I'm gone. That your oceans and waves will take a break for a while. You deserve a break. (That you'll mend the cracks in your bones, and your paper thin heart will become more.) Make this promise to me because I won't be here forever. I can't take you cold hand into mine and lead the way for much longer. Just promise me this.
-Brittany Holmes (naturxllyharry)
