I like your storms splattering raindrops and thunder that cracks open the sky but I want to be with you on your grey days. I’ll laugh with your sunshine and swordfight your lightning, but I want to be with you on your grey days ; when nothing much is happening— except your eyes are clouded over.
I can’t stop comparing you to weather which sounds ridiculous, except for the way your personality is like the wind I can feel it I can feel it I can feel it but I never seem to be able to catch it, or do it justice with my words.
It sounds ridiculous except for how you’re a forecast for my day. When your eyes reflect bright blue sky and fluffy cumulus clouds, I don’t remember how to frown; and when your storms rage I know to stand strong against the wind.
on your grey days as much as I’ll want to persuade that sunshine smile to come out to play, I’ll sit quietly with you if you want, and let you be nostalgic, in that way that always makes you sad but never makes you cry. like how mist isn’t quite rain.