love-buzz

My soul is colorful. Its sensitive. It lives to laugh, but can cry at the drop of a hat. It's dense in it's matter to stand still, because it wants to move at a high speed throughout all times. My soul is not a collection of mistakes, but rather experiences. My soul is gentile and mild and yet mean and on fire. My soul is unorganized, messy, and impatient. My soul can be touched easily by others, but remain out of reach. My soul will be young at every age. It's wise. My soul bubbles with stories and sees beyond the eye's capabilities. My soul is passive aggressive. My soul is a child the first time they took their first steps, an

She had been studying his eyes for years, but this particular afternoon she couldn't quite come to the conclusion if they were pools of blue or gray. His glance was foggy, and the emotions that swam like fish in his iris's paved way for heaped teaspoonfuls of confusion and angst. His eyes appeared something so beautiful she never imagined being priviledged to look into them. She had witness the sun setting atop of mountains, she had experienced tropic storms and the brief survilence of rainbows that followed their finales. She had witnessed the seven wonders of the world, but but none of these had compared to the specks of green in his eyes.