It's been awhile since my eyes met your skin and this is all going to sounds far too cliche but your lips are drawing mine in to slow dance  and the rain hitting the window sounds a lot like love to me. In the back seat we have countless silent conversations but even the thunder has less volume than your name on my tongue. The only way to catch sight of you is when the lightening flashes across the sky, then crashes across your eyes. Your hands on my back give me more chills than the storm's breath as I'm trying to catch mine. The rain against my neck drives me almost as crazy as your grip and your skin is almost as soaked as my inner thighs. But they say every storm runs out of rain and I guess our romance just lost it's thunder.