Crash
His icy blue eyes are liquid fire.
His inky hair is thick and curly.
His pale of skin is just the right off-white to blend his hair and eyes.
The picture of roughish handsomeness.
But he isn't.
He's all hard lines and jagged edges.
All sarcastic looks and witty comebacks.
All acting without thinking and disastrous results.
The picture of attractive chaos.
Her chocolate eyes are liquid warmth.
Her mahogany hair is long and dense.
Her sun-kissed skin is just the right bronze to add warmness to her features.
The picture of kindhearted innocence.
And she is.
She's all soft lines and smooth edges.
All friendly looks and soft hearted replies.
All meticulous planning and safe acting.
The picture of naive blindness.
His eyes are stuck wide open- glistening with tears unshed.
His hair is snared in the grip of a worthless woman- torn out.
His skin is broken and cracked from confrontations- and her.
The picture of an abused lover.
And he is
But he still loves her.
Even if she didn't know.
Her eyes are stuck tightly shut- squinting against harsh and blinding colors.
Her hair is down- hiding her from the world.
Her skin is so soft- sheltered from harsh winds and gentle rays of sun.
The picture of a stubborn child
And she was.
But she doesn't know he loves her.
Even if she loves him.
He knows the world.
Knows it with eyes wide open.
Hair torn out.
Skin broken and cracked.
She refuses to know the world.
Refuses with eyes tightly shut.
Hair hung down.
Skin ever so soft.
He wants to teach her.
To open her eyes.
To tear out her hair.
To break and crack her skin.
She won't let him teach her.
Her eyes won't open.
Her hair won't be torn out.
Her skin won't break and crack.
She stays shut.
Why can't she change?
It would be better.
Better for everyone.
Why can't she be more like him?
She wants to teach him.
To close his eyes.
To let his hair hang over his face.
To make his skin soft.
He won't let her teach him.
His eyes won't close.
His hair won't cover his face.
His skin won't become soft.
He stays open.
Why can't he change?
It would be better.
Better for everyone.
Why can't he be more like her?
He loves her.
He really does.
And he shows it.
Wears it in those open eyes.
Shows it in that torn out hair.
Sends the message with his broken and cracked skin.
She can't see it.
Or won't.
She loves him.
She really does.
But she doesn't show it.
Hides it behind those closed eyes.
Covers it in that hair that covers her face.
There's no message in her soft, soft skin.
He can't see it.
But he would.
They are opposites.
As different as they come.
They show that well.
Although, not much else.
They seem like disasters.
Set on a course.
Bound to crash.
And explosive, life-altering crash.
And they will.
One running full speed.
One walking calmly.
But when do.
What a crash it will be.
Giving off icy blue, inky, chocolate, and mahogany sparks.
In an all-consuming crash.
It will take him first.
Careening off the edge.
Take his open eyes.
Take is torn-out hair.
Take his broken and cracked skin.
Spiting out only his black soul and heart.
It will take her last.
Standing back as far as can be.
Take her closed eyes.
Take face-covering hair.
Take her soft skin.
Spiting out only her warm soul and heart.
Leaving despair.
Leaving hatred.
Leaving greed.
But most importantly,
Leaving their all-consuming love.
AN: Don't own.