what if this storm ends?

all my infinite rolls of endless, extravagant poetry imploded into hollow verses when i met you.

effortless lines of imagined emotions collapsed into
deafening white noise when you touched the base
of my throat and in numbing fluorescence you
conjured lightning and wild cloudburst
within the confines of my ribcage.

you left me with a throat full of empty scribbles and lungs parched with the absence of the tempest.

there’s a storm in your fingertips.

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