Storm
The incessant raging storm reminded me of the empty side of your bed all night.
Every time the lightning struck the darkest of the dark midnight skies, lighting everything up like a photographer’s flash, I couldn’t help but see the non-messy side of your bed. Empty.
The thunder that followed then, would quieten my voice as I screamed your name into the void of the universe.
I wish I had counted the number of times this happened all night, but I know it happened often.
The clock kept ticking and the lightning kept lighting up everything on the earth.
1:11 AM. Empty Bed.
2:01 AM. Empty Bed.
3:16 AM. Empty Bed.
4:55 AM. Empty Bed.
Every hour, every minute, with every lightning, I kept losing you along with the hope that you would come back.
When I’d lost every last bit of it, the sun rose, bringing light to the sky, and taking over the persistent storm of the night.
The birds chirped with the sunrise, the light breeze brought in the fragrance of the earth and you. As you lay beside me as if you never left. Peaceful in sleep, as if you never fret the nightmares that some of us see even with our eyes open.
Your skin is warm as compared to me cold hands and you smell strongly of the storm. A little of the dry leaves, a little musky, a little of petrichor, a little like the lightening and a little like me.
It’s then, that the real storm stops in my heart, when all the light is yours and all the thunder simply the sound of my heart on seeing you.
