Through The Storms That Lead Me Astray

Last night I began to write a letter to someone I love. I sat in my room, boxes from the move everywhere, my bed unmade and my laptop on my knees. The keyboard felt so familiar, so comforting underneath my finger tips, yet that small normalcy did little to ease my racing heart. I began to type, the words coming out forced and ridged. It wasn’t until about halfway through the letter that I broke, my breath coming in ragged gasps, the tears flowing freely. It was at that moment, the very instant I felt myself losing control, that I realized a few things. First there was the realization of how dependant I am on the one who put the ring on my finger. Second there was the realization of just how much I loved the one I was to send this letter to. Third was the realization of how badly I wanted, no, ached, for a summer storm. I still feel it on me now, no matter how much I try to deny it. I feel it all over, like some thick abrasive slime I can’t rid myself of. I need something clean, something pure, to cleanse with. But it’s not raining, and it wont rain for a good long while. And until it does, I’m afraid the filth will spread.