Have you ever heard the story about the girl who started counting seconds between the lighting and the thunder, to see how far away the rain was?

We sat there, two weathered minds, on the wooden swing chained to your porch,
the delicate wind chimes were at war with the tumultuous thunder.
The little metal pipes singing, begging us not to speak.
The explosions in the sky shouting, demanding us to yell even if in comparison our voices were weak.

Maybe it was the tension between us, sitting so close yet so far, not a single space of skin touching, that cracked the sky with white lines.
Maybe it was the shaky thoughts in our heads that rattled the house the way it did.


I don't remember the name of the story, or how it went really.
All I know is that I was singing quietly to the rain and I realized that I stopped counting the seconds between me and you.