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Jul 2015
There are countless of metaphors I could create to express how much you mean to me, but the one idea I haven’t quite put into words is this; when there’s a warm breeze brushing against my skin, there could be a storm tearing down the trees in your backyard. While Florida’s gust of wind is messing up my hair or calming down my anxiety for the night, a Texas thunderstorm is tearing your house apart, and the reason for your last breath. And now the trees in your backyard aren’t the only thing the storm tore apart, but my heart too with every grain of faith left in me. The Florida wind isn’t going to mess up my hair this time, but the Texas catastrophe will mess up my mind and the love we once shared from a distance. A person’s last breath and the narrative of it has never been more important to me. Thoughts rid me of sleep when this is what they whisper; the detestation of the miles between us only multiplying, wishing it was you whispering sweet nothings only inches between us instead. Wanting your fingertips brushing against my skin instead of the breeze in the middle of the night. There are too many moments I long to, not have sun kissed skin, but my skin kissed by you instead. I just pray the trees stay in your backyard and you become the reason my hair is a mess because I’m tired of giving the credit to this dreaded Florida wind.
Melanie Cruz
Written by
Melanie Cruz  18/Cisgender Female/Florida
(18/Cisgender Female/Florida)   
495
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