I found a letter once, hidden under a rock in the rain. I don’t know where it came from, who it was for or why it was there. But it was open. It had been read. And it seemed it had been thrown away.
You were a storm, I’ve realised.
Like lightening you were powerful, one touch from you and I was on fire. Both so beautiful and so terrifying, all I could do was watch in awe, so desperate to get closer and closer. Sparks of electricity filled up the skies when I was with you and quickly I fell, plummeting towards the ground. It was inevitable.
Like thunder, you were loud, masking the silence that seemed to be everywhere. There was something oddly peaceful about the chaos you caused. As if life was quiet enough, you were the sound that I needed to hear. You were calling me, I am sure of it, and I was so close to reaching you.
It didn’t take me long to be swept away. Before I knew it I was being thrown around in your hurricane, collateral damage dropped in the mess you left behind. That’s my fault I guess. I should have stayed indoors. I should have waited for the rain to pass, for the fog to clear. But I’d never seen something so beautiful and suddenly I was caught at the eye of the storm.
And like the weather, the first thing you did was make me feel. It wasn’t your eyes that drew me in, because I fell in love with the ocean a long time ago. It wasn’t your smile either, because I knew to not expect it that often. It was your movements, your freedom, and the way they would never end. You were constantly moving, only stopping every now and then to strike the ground.
I must have been standing too close when you struck me.
I counted the seconds between you sometimes, you were never too far away. And yet, somehow, I could never quite catch up to you. Maybe you wouldn’t have noticed if I did. Maybe I was too still, too small, I couldn’t have caught your eye.
And that’s when I knew.
Intense light, shivering skin, over before it began. That was all you.
The rain only ever falls downwards. You touched me, but I could never do the same.
You were a storm, I realised.
I don’t think you meant to be like that. I think you wanted to be a summer’s day, a winter’s night. Sometimes I imagined you that way, the cosiness of a fire within a snowfall, the serenity of the waves beneath the sun. But you weren’t meant to be that way. You were meant to stun, to be flawless and poetic and you weren’t meant to last forever.
Because storms are meant to be feared, maybe admired from a distance but ultimately avoided. They aren’t meant to be beauty and distraction. Just a simple moment where the world has had enough.
I learnt that, I accepted that.
But now I am left amongst flooded streets and broken trees, grey clouds a reminder that you were here. Every time it starts to rain I wonder if you’re out there, somewhere. Mesmerising, falling from the sky. And I know I shouldn’t, but I do, I listen out for the hint of thunder, I look out for the bolt of fire through the air. Otherwise I’ll just sit there, staring out the window, watching the streets you left behind.
I’m not sure when the sun will re-appear again.
It was only after I read the letter that I realised how heavy it was raining.
Maybe a storm was on it’s way.