Adamantine
She is the storm that shatters the silence. She is the wave that breaks against the shore. The radiance of this surreal abode lingers in his eyes. She is the falling feather. He is the swirling hurricane. Her carefully packaged heart has the might to sink him in his shoes. He could eventually realize the enormity of what had just transpired. Right in that momentary lapse of logic, he broke through their defenses and got themselves intertwined in an exquisite mess of chaos and order embellished decorated with perfect imperfections.
He is the only soul who could crawl between the notes of her laughter. He is the hope that drifts from the leaking tap in her office. He is the hope that creeps in through the crack of her broken window. He is the ardent affection of nature that seeps through her body with the warm waves swirling coffee. She is drowning anchorless in an ocean of unfulfilled desires that were never actually made. The water in the abyss engulfs her organs. It chokes her. It grips her as if to never let go.
The clueless wrinkle on her forehead; the absentminded scratches at her chin; the curious glares of her eyes; the tensed soft sigh that escaped her lips, even the tiniest details of her are enough to heighten the emotions inside his oblong windows. He can feel the gap between her laughter. The void in her eyes. A velvety void immensely tiny. It has pain that could hardly be fixed by curled letters with unexplained loops.
Her ceaseless guffaw did manage to envelope myriad of unseen chapters. He knew the pages she showed are unreal. Her louder laughter unfailingly drowns her dejected moans. She is tirelessly exhausted but still continues to smile, giggle and crack jokes only to wrap her silent cries. She knows that this life so bitter will constantly hit her hard in the face and wait for her to get up just to kick her back in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of her is the only way to remind her writhing lungs how much they like the taste of air.
To him there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. They wonder why she acts as if nothing is serious in her life? Why does she smile all day long? They ask her to stop it. They ask her to be serious. Their criticisms were to no avail. And each time she is handed a heartache, each time war and hatred are slipped beneath her door and his disappointed lips utter that they really ought to meet "her."