hurricane

you are my brightest hurricane.

whirling winds swirling o'er a sea of blues,

a flick of foam through a jet of icy spray,

waves rushing over up-turned palms, naked hues--

everything less than silver--of grey and gray;

prayers for those lost at sea, unetched tattoos 

streaking across veins of ink, flooding the bay;

hearts rushing, beating, soaring; but it's the same--

love, you have become my brightest hurricane.

Author's Note

i tried to do ottava rima. um, whether i passed or not is up to you. also i have a lot of feels.