I'm trying to find the right metaphor for the storm
but I ended up mumbling your name.
I can hear your bones break like thunder.
I can hear your cries against my windowpane,
thousands of miles from where you are.

You never thought I would stop running but I did.
I still remember the day when you beg my heart to settle down.
I still remember our little dance in the terrace,
two young people in the night,
experiencing forever in twelve hours.

You were the reason why I feel sad over the sound
of singing cicadas and heartbeats.
You were the reason why I stop leaving things unfinished.

Last night, a friend called and told me how you're doing.
I wonder if your scars still hurt when it's six degrees outside.
I want to cover your shoulder with words and moonlight until it softens.
Until you stop putting your hand on your chest at 2AM to keep it from howling.

I don't remember what type of storm you are anymore,
But I still remember you when it rains.

These words are for me,
For I'm the one who's hurting,
I'm just healing myself.

I don’t want to talk
Locked
Somewhere between my eyes and my trembling hands
I couldn’t hold the pencil
To tell you.

It fell from between my fingers
And I watched the chance to yell
Hit the ground
— my voice thins with your hair