If perfect existed, it was he
If “together” was ever twisted, it was they
For his heart was constistent
But her soul was stone cold.
Her heart wanted roots
His mind wanted wings
And the more he allowed her to pull on his heartstrings,
The deeper the torment of his feelings.
Her heart was unsteady, but he was determined to sing to its beat
She only needed time to slow and for her healing to fall in place.
He wanted time to pass, and for her to run at his own pace.
His sense of timing was flawed.
But boy, he was just the perfect guy, only that he had shown up during the wrong phase.