We draw close under covers,
Taking cover from fire and thunder.
He is pounding on the window and rooftop.
He wants us to show our faces.
Your right hand snakes down to find mine.
It squeezes it once
"I'm right here"
It's too dark to see, but I can feel your eyes staring into mine
Your left hand apparates inches from my face
Brushing a black mote of dusk from my face you obviously can't see
It lingers slightly
I turn my face, my cheek rubbing against your hand
I feel pressure pushed onto my chest
You snuggle your head in, as if trying to collect my warmth
I can feel the wet spots your eyes are leaving on my shirt
I run a hand through your hair, untangling the mess within
The cacophony outside grows louder
He must sense our closeness
He screams to be heard, to be acknowledged
But we simply hold each other even closer
"It will be over soon"
"But it never really ends,
"But it never really ends,
Even when the rain and thunder don't pour from the heavens
I can still feel and hear it inside of me"
Where was this taken? Both the picture and the writing is gorgeous!
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