thunder/storm
1.03.2015 @ 07:39
You are like thunder. You are nothing without sound. And
what is thunder without sound anyway? You are loud, majestic, and you’ll scare
everyone else except me. I like sound. You know I do.
And you are like rain. Not just any rain, but the kind that falls fast and heavy and blurs everything out. You’ll create a rhythm wherever you go, and it always varies. Sometimes I might have to tap tap tap SHOUT OVER YOU BUT tap THAT’S OKAY BECAUSE I KNOW tap tap YOU ARE MORE THAN JUST TAPS ON WINDOW PANES tap tap tap tap AND SOMETIMES WHEN THE TAPS BECOME HURRIED tap tap tap I KNOW BETTER THAN TO FEAR THE IMPENDING SIGNS tap taptaptap OF YOUR THUNDER STORM, tap tap because I know you are more than just a passing rain cloud and I ought to get used to it.
And you are like rain. Not just any rain, but the kind that falls fast and heavy and blurs everything out. You’ll create a rhythm wherever you go, and it always varies. Sometimes I might have to tap tap tap SHOUT OVER YOU BUT tap THAT’S OKAY BECAUSE I KNOW tap tap YOU ARE MORE THAN JUST TAPS ON WINDOW PANES tap tap tap tap AND SOMETIMES WHEN THE TAPS BECOME HURRIED tap tap tap I KNOW BETTER THAN TO FEAR THE IMPENDING SIGNS tap taptaptap OF YOUR THUNDER STORM, tap tap because I know you are more than just a passing rain cloud and I ought to get used to it.
Your wind will be cold – not the harsh and skin-biting
numbness kind, but more like cool air that sweeps past your forearm, and only to
dance off the tips of your fingers. It’s the kind of lingering and yet oddly
soothing chill you give that sends me into a frenzy of whether or not I should
be thankful, or lonely.
The puddles you leave behind will look like
bottomless pits. They have the depths of all the oceans combined, and you know
I cannot swim. Your puddles are stationary, but they will only grow in size. If
I’m not careful I might fall into one. It isn’t scary at all, trust me. The
complete darkness in them is almost welcoming. I cannot trust myself to climb
out of the puddles you have left behind because the fall is starting to feel
like home.
Labels: Writings
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