“what’s your idea of the calm?” you asked me once in passing, voice laced in such dreamlike wonder.
“those hours in the night spent alone while the whole house is asleep. reading old journals and letters in the middle of cleaning my room after a long period of sadness. an afternoon nap that ends up being better than the previous night’s sleep. the welcome hug a place gives as it remains unaware of my name.”
your end was filled with palpable silence, the enticing kind.

“what’s yours?” i exclaim
“you.”

and it so goes a shift from disbelief to nauseating giddiness to composure. i’ve always been all over the place barely making it anywhere. most days, i existed along the lines of chaos and maybe us meeting, our lines intersecting was a haphazard drift of peace. we were both in our equilibrium phase, breakeven skies, no storm in sight nor in passing. we were both so used to havoc but strangely for once, it repelled. we were each other’s calm after the storm but i guess i was misinformed-lo and behold, some storms never really leave. before you my grasp on the calm was slippery and i was mistaken that i could ever even try to be the silhouette of it. ‘cause that’s what you needed but even years past i still don’t know how to silence your thunders.