Sometimes I think to myself that maybe you are actually rain and you are evaporating in the heat of the moment, when I need you the most. Those lips have eased cool words from your tongue like runoff, and your mouth has carelessly dropped beaded kisses onto my throat like a foggy window pane, and you can see through me just as easily.  And after you've stormed into my room and I've felt the thunder of your fingers shaking me to the core, you still linger on me like the smell after the first spring showers. And thoughts of you precipitate in the form of acid rain, inside my head like the ***** city downpours and my brain is just a brand new Corvet left in the parking lot. You have redeemed me, refreshed me, corroded me. I can see the lightning in your eyes every time your hands are hovering over me, and now all I can do is count the seconds until I hear the thunder.