Another plain ole average day. Facing the treacherous walk through the bustling streets. Swimming against the fish who never look up. Distracted constantly. Faces you'd never know, were people too.
Forecast predicted some winds. Advisory to stay at home. We all know there is no such thing when it comes to work. Grabbed the rain coat and on I went. Barely made it a single block. Couldn't see two street lights ahead. The fish were scarred. Slamming off one another. This was no average storm.
A splash. A wave. Puddle ruined my pants. Passing car coated me with only god knows what. These were ***** waters. Soon rivers, took over the concrete. A rainforest of a jungle now. My tie chocked up my neck. Briefcase forced me to sink.
My eyes soon were teased. I was stranded out at sea, or so it seemed. Until I crashed into an island. I soon found as a haven. Standing beneath the city clock. I waited patiently. Knowing I would never survive out there. Until, a beacon shined through all the grey.
My skin froze. No, not from the rain. From the way this women looked at me. Hesitant yet amazed. Awe filled up inside her faster than it did in me. I blinked. Thought maybe I have finally gone insane. But no, this was happening. We both stood in place as if the hands of time broke down. Something kept the gears idle within the clock tower.
We were drenched from the passing storm. Standing under this monument. We paused accepting the falling waters of the sky. Cowardly so, we never even spoke. Just admired. Simply and silently. Two statues stuck in a daze. Standing as skyscrapers amongst umbrellas.
Looking into each other for a moment that lasted long beyond both our years. The water washed away our wear and tears. The city vanished. The storm ceased to be a bother. The fish faded into the ocean. It was just me and her. Shipwrecked. Stranded. Alone. Or so we thought before. Soon learned, our destinations were never meant to be. We fell in love. Swiftly and unexpectedly. The way the heavens intended. Grey clouds blew through us both and out came the sun. If not for this treacherous storm, I would have never met... her.

- Nicholas A. McNutt

Write me your poetry. Write me your words. How your body trembled from bliss. Being pumped into your veins as every breathe escaped you. Clenching muscles making your brain flush with hormones and chemicals. It's a drug. The things we do to one other. Pure. Raw. Natural. Ecstasy created within who we are. Derived of nothing more than intriguingly random chemical compounds. Acting on systems as vast as the galaxies around us. It's a wonder. Is this not a gift from the very force that drives us. Let me have you. Let me be one with you. Let us collide. Where your pen meets paper. Exists our universe. That very universe. I just created. I know you felt it. Let it surround us. Please let us become lost. Write me your poetry, darling.

- Nicholas A. McNutt

Every now and then, day will come and night shall rest
You can't recall your dreams, since you haven't slept
You feel you've lost yourself, as the sun rises above
Looking out on the horizon, past everything that was
No idea what is wrong, something sure is amiss
Some things, you just got to figure out yourself
There will be times, it all seems to be too hard
You will fall, you may bleed. A small boat caught out at sea.
A drift in thought, you seem to lean. Too far over the edge you'll be.

No way to resurface, no coming back to the ship
You'll never be unchanged, the light won't feel the same
No warmth to find, caught up in your own mind
Day won't be your friend, night has betrayed you again
This may pass, a mere storm
You'll keep sailing, journey some more
There will be danger, I promise you've grown stronger
The rocks underneath, slam and they churn. Time don't wait for the perfect storm.
Just remember, a sailor still on deck. Never knows what he shall learn

Now you know, every now and then
There will be struggle, but you will be okay my friend
Night will come, day shall rest
You deserve to dream again

- Nicholas A. McNutt

She was the pen. Forever scaring me.
As I was the paper. Who loved the pain.
I knew with every touch. I would never be the same.
I desired nothing more. Than her poetry.

-Nicholas A. McNutt