My Storm

My heart, a liar, tells me that it's okay to be alone. I stand in the wet stillness of water, a mirror lake. No winds, no rain. Silence.

Breath comes into my lungs, then leaves. I accept the stillness. I like it. Nothing can go wrong if nothing happens in the first place.

Clouds assemble on the horizon, battleships with thunderous harbingers. She comes. The lake trembles, and my veins pulse with fear, excitement.

The Storm comes. But I don't fear her. She invigorates me, pushes me, excites me. I accept her into my world. She becomes one with mine. My Storm.

My Storm is a great, swirling disaster, a grand typhoon swirling over my head. I stand here, in her eye, green, captive in her cold embrace.

Black winds, like curly hair, whip and cry all around me. They smell of flowers and linen sheets. I taste them on my tongue every time I open my mouth.

Her whispers trickle into my ear. Her sighs, her laughs, her moans; all stir my heart like bare feet splashing into still puddles.

Her rain, like hands, caress and comfort my aching bones. I lay myself down and she showers me, covers me with torrential downpour. She commands the waves, covers me like blankets. It's cold, but I feel warm all the same.

She is small, stationary. She rests just beyond the shore, never building, never growing. I want her to grow. I want her to build and intensify and rage against the coasts. But as I speak, my words are counter-winds. They cancel each other out, reducing her even further.

My heart, a liar, tells me it's atrophied. It tells me that her winds are biting me, killing me, smothering me. It tells me to run, fly, swim, away from her. My fear agrees with my heart. I am a coward.

I try to leave her orbit, her calm center. Why am I here? Her winds whip at me as I leave the eye, howling and crying. My stomach turns. Regrets claw through my eyes. Every step is worse than the last.

I don't want this.

I came to her of my own will. I entered because I wanted to. And it tears at me every time I think to leave.

She stays here, so I stay as well. I don't want to leave. I can't leave anymore. I can't bear to imagine the skies without her catastrophic winds, her glorious destruction. I can't imagine wandering the silent sands, the still waters, the dead air.

I love my Storm. I will sustain my Storm. I will build my Storm.

Until she swallows the world.