I used to be scared of thunderstorms, but I fell deeply for one. I used to hate the lighting striking when I least expect it, now it had found a way to get a hold of my heart. Things change, but never completely; I still found and overwhelming amount to comfort when I got to the eye of the storm and I had always loved the rain. Not everyone can get to the eye, and the times I did and still do, I've felt very lucky to.
Our relationship was never pink, we argued more than being cliché, even when we were happy, we would argue. But even so, I didn't need to hear the exact I love you, we were not like that either. You would say "you're such a *****", and I would say, "and you're an *******"; you would smile, and I would too because that was enough. It screamed I love you louder than any "I love you, boo" would. We loved passionately yet fought furiously.
And after all the times I tried figuring out what we had, asking myself why we weren't like every couple out there, realization hit me at 2:00 a.m. in the morning. I didn't want to be like everybody else because you loved me truly and I loved you endlessly. There would be times you hurt me, and I hurt you too, but the love was enough to cover.
You're a thunderstorm and I wouldn't change it for a thing, not even for the stars and the galaxies out there, or the fields of flowers around the land, not even the salty top to bottom of the sea, all the riches of the world, or the key to heaven.