Poetry

I could see the storm in her eyes, hidden behind the clouds of irises.
Before it started pouring down, I saw lightning flash across her face.
Her hair fluttered restlessly like crows before taking off.
They yelled that she is a witch, but all I could hear was the wind.
With thoughts full of her scent, I drowned in the depths of her soul.
Before her I was dopehead trying to fill the chasm with the void.