Natural Makeup
He pushes.
She pulls.
He's water.
She's fire.
He's earth.
She's air.
He cools.
She burns.
He's solid.
She's vague.
They shouldn't work together.
They do.
They are equal.
Clashing waves.
Forest fires.
Tectonic plates.
Pressure systems.
Combining their power and strength.
Volatile, then surprisingly tranquil.
They are a storm, a volcano, an earthquake, a tornado.
They are a waterfall, a candle, a countryside, a breeze.
He reads.
She dances.
His arms are the only things that can hold her, and her smile is the only thing that wakes his core.
Like the horizon they meet in the middle, and on hot days the line is blurred and you can't tell the difference.
He pushes.
She pulls.
He pulls.
She pushes.
It's not a war.
It's nature.
Two sides of the same soul.
Gaia spit them out and Zeus split them with a lighting bolt.
They can look into each other and see the truth.
By what the world expects they shouldn't fit but they do.
Jagged edges that smooth on to each other.
Together they work.
Together they fit.
They shouldn't.
They do.
It's natural.