This kind of love

His lanky arms around her waist, Grey orbs focuses its attention on her The corners of his lips tilts just slightly upwards She notices his legs are shaking His hair sitting still,not messily “My person” she thought...walking away Remembering the speech of her womb sharer, “Everyone has his person” She sat on the cold surface of the counter top With the whistling of the kettle in the corner Arms around her knees in attempt to comfort herself, She thinks “What type of love exists here?” She was quite cynical about it Rebuking all pronouncements of love Confusion and dislike reigned in her head She felt lost. Determined to find this “person” Turning her neck slightly, Her orbs come in contact with his Flashbacks and thoughts flow in She would miss him in her spare time.