Some days I think of you as a thunderstorm,
but not in a bad weather kind of way.
I think of silent comfort.
The way you kind of don't want it to rain, but secretly you feel joy in a perfect rainy day.
Rainy days are for movies and cuddles, snacks and coziness. A warm fire and the pop of popcorn, time to just lay low.
The pitter patter of raindrops on the roof is your voice in my ear.
The wind howling is the havoc I feel on the inside when your fingertips brush my stomach.
Lightening is the flash of feeling I have for you when your eyes meet mine - quick, but intense and breathtaking.
But the thunder describes you best of all.
Dark, Fierce, Fervent, Beautiful.
Thunder holds secrets, it holds mysteries.
Beneath the resounding crash is comfort, pleasure, safety, and peace.
All the same can be said for what I found inside of you.
You are my favorite storm.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC
The pain of a heartbreak affects us in different ways.
She’ll erase you completely, never speak to you again, and have you questioning whether it truly was you who decided to end things.
But the next girl won’t be able to ease the ache until she drives past your house in different cars that you won’t recognize to see if anybody else is leaving tire marks in your drive.
You won’t be lucky enough to escape without the insane red eyed ex who you term ****** because she just loved you too much when you still couldn’t love at all.
The only tire marks in your yard are from the friends who are tired of trying to bring you back from the corner you’ve crawled into since the intrepid spirit you never could quite tame spiraled through you and blew even the most intact parts of you into places you are too hurt to reach. But her destruction isn’t one sided, she erases you in every word she writes and every tear she cries, hoping that your green eyes and the dimple in the left cheek fade from her memory as the pen fades on the paper.
Red eyes search for a reason in the cold of the night while black ink words spill onto a piece of paper under the candlelight. Our emotions bleed and our madness can be deranged, but it can also be elegantly beautiful.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
nothing feels quite like you do
at 5 am when you lay your arms across mine, wrapped tight around your waist
nothing feels like snowy thruways at 8 am and the car heater at midnight, the only reason leaving your bed feels good is because I’m leaving it with you
nothing feels like everything because I feel everything with you
things I’ve never felt before and peace I never knew
you’re nothing to some people and everything to me
everything you have is nothing others see
when everything you are becomes everything you were, and when nothing can change the everything I want to become a blur
remind me that nothing feels quite like you
and it’s something to hold on to
that doesn’t quite burn like we had to.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 9:12 AM UTC