There was a thunderstorm last night.
Today it smells like sweet petrichor,
Coating my nose and holding everything
Very Still.
But last night.
There was a thunderstorm.
Thunder rolling like waves crashing and breaking on the shore.
Lightning cutting jagged lines in the air.
And so much rain that the puddles look like oceans.
And the world is sweet petrichor.
And through the thunderstorm,
I thought of you.
Your hand in mine.
Your warm, sweet hugs.
The soft kisses that part of me will always pretend never happened.
And part of me aches for again.

Through the thunderstorm,
My thought was of sharing the time with you.

There was a thunderstorm last night.
One that almost shook the ground I stood on.
And I was not afraid.
But my fingers felt quite lonely.
And my thoughts resided elsewhere.
And now the morning's breaking,
And the whole thing is kind of hazy.
And the world's made of sweet petrichor.
And my thoughts still lie on you.