Some people
Make you realise
Why hurricanes are named

after humans.

But she
She wasn’t one of them, no.

She was
A violent, tropical

monsoon storm
The incessant rains, the howling winds
Cold, sudden, detested,

But welcome
That gust of chilly wind
That made you shiver
And changed
Sunny days
Into gloomy ones with no shine.
Gloomy, morose yet
deliciously gleaming.
She was the soothing touch
of the cold muzzle
On your temple
Before you were shot,

ever so smoothly.
She had grace, she did
Mon enfante terrible!
Flowers she loved.
Most girls do, you say?
But then, you see
She was

the only one
Who wore

wild roses
With thorns
In her hair.


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