His lips pressed against my skin like raindrops that fell gently upon my cold body. So gentle, so close. His love for me transformed, it grew until my skies were covered and his world was all I knew. The sensation he gave me was captivating, for I had always loved a storm. His smile hit me like a blinding streak of lightning, and it made me feel infinite. I was so lost in the thundering words that echoed in my ears, I was so incredibly obsessed with his hands and how they held me so tight, and I forgot that storms always come to an end. Slowly the raindrops stopped falling over my body so fiercely, his words ceased from thundering as they faltered to an echo. A memory. The ghost of his lips remained, like my love for him. Since the storm dispersed I sometimes fall in puddles of our forgotten love and I wish for the storm to return. A storm may be beautiful, but it will not last forever.