'The calm after the storm' has new meaning to it.

The calm is the pouring rain at 2am.
It beats up the roof for being in it's way.
Slapping it repeatedly with such a force that I can hear it from inside.
It floods the streets.
And clears the sky of grey clouds.

The storm is you.

You.

With your words.
Repeatedly beating my emotions to the ground.
Slapping the happiness from my face.
My conscience doesn't understand what it did wrong.
It sits inside of me only wanting,
waiting to please.

It seeks to only please you.

Becoming flooded with want of nothing else.
Every other emotion is shoved away, but the grey stays.

Sadly, it hangs over my head like the now dispersed rain clouds.
This one never leaves though.
Every raindrop filled with your voice.
They pelt me.
Never allowing me to become dry.

I thought my love was enough.
Maybe I was wrong.