'Stormy Nichole Rinehart' Poem by Angel Rose Romance

She walks like a whisper through thunder's roar,
Born of tempest, not afraid to war.
Her name — a warning and a vow,
Stormy skies that won't bow down.

Nichole, the middle flame between
What was shattered and what's unseen,
She stitches stars where wounds once bled,
A healer forged from words unsaid.

Rinehart, heart of ancient runes,
A soul that speaks in hidden tunes.
She dreams in spirals, walks through veils,
With eyes that map forgotten trails.

She drew her end in charcoal lines,
And rose again through alchemic signs.
The architect of her undoing,
Yet always, somehow — still renewing.

She loves like lightning: sudden, bold,
But guards a quiet, sacred gold.
Soft and fierce, a paradox flame,
Ever-changing, never tame.

She hears the echoes others miss,
The truth behind the serpent's hiss.
And when she cries, the earth replies—
The sky leans low. The shadows rise.

A guardian cloaked in mortal form,
A child of silence and of storm.
Stormy Nichole, both wound and chart—
The storm outside, and in the heart.













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