Perfect Storm

You were my perfect storm, the finest disaster I’ve ever seen. I saw the destruction behind you and I wasn’t afraid because it reminded me of me. I walked into you head on. I let your winds touch every part of my body, and become familiar with my scars, and your floods filled up my heart. I found myself looking into your eyes and the peace there deceived me; I thought that that meant safety. I forgot about the storm I walked into because when I looked around I found paradise. I felt the sun kiss my face. I smelled the rain coming but I mistook it for the roses I saw budding. They were coming from my heart, from the seeds you planted in me, that you watered with your lies. And as the roses grew, the thorns gave me new scars. And the paradise was ripped away. I stepped back into the storm and my roses never bloomed. They turned into vines that wrapped around my body and refused to let me move. My wounds got bigger and my pain got deeper, until the vines were only holding together a misshapen form, unrecognizable to anybody; except the storm. You recognized my wounds because you replicated them, but only, you made them bigger and deeper. And as the storm passed me by, no longer the same, full of holes and pain, I realized my mistake. I shouldn’t have feared the destruction, I should have feared becoming a part of it. because now I’m just one of your ruins. Another tale for you to tell. Just another person you destroyed.