by Anonymous

Storms at night- that is what reminds me of him now. I would have agreed with that even before.

He is dark in the way that night can be; sometimes lit with reflections of his world and twinkles in his eyes and smile- sometimes pitch black when his spirit is sore and his eyes aim down to the ground, lips downturned at the corners.

The thunder that he's got inside only shows when he strikes out. Warm droplets of water that hug me close, smooth and clinging to my hair. The static in the air, buzzing impishly in my heart.

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