Thunderstorm

I heard the rain come down in the middle of the night,

thunder sounding through the sky,

a lightning strike to wake the neighborhood. 

 

I reached over for you, but I forgot 

you’ve disappeared. 

I thought about picking up the phone 

and calling you to keep me safe, 

but I was too afraid to face the answer. 

 

Tossing and turning, 

I tried to get to sleep. 

Tried to sink into a mindless dream

that would be too pointless to 

remember the next morning. 

With you out of reach, 

the coldness from your side of the bed 

drifted towards me, 

freezing me out,

pushing me further away. 

 

The minutes turned to hours 

ticking by on the clock 

and no matter what I did, 

I couldn’t get my mind to stop 

its wandering and overthinking, 

wondering what it would be like 

if things hadn’t gone so wrong. 

 

My heart pounded through my chest 

like the storm raging outside, 

echoing through the home 

we once called ours. 

 

But now its remains only belong to me,

and I wish I was with the rain, 

creating a puddle out of a thousand 

little drops, 

instead of a forgotten 

single self,

waiting to be washed away 

with the rest of the storm.