Thunderstorms and late night talks.

Once upon a time, a late August night, lightning painted the sky and rain softened the ground. 

Two souls united in looking at the same sky, soon to watch it from different parts. 

Late enough to be the next day, he still insisted to go outside and she followed like always, because he had a tone of longing.

There they stood, under the stars, watching the sky fight itself and shout in agony as loud as mountains breaking, mesmerized by a beauty that is rare in these parts of the world.

He opened his mouth and shared a part of his soul she'd never seen before, a piece of a childhood long gone, a piece that could have been lost in the rain, a piece she still carries around.

She kissed his mouth, he took her hand, wishing for different plans.

They reached the point of drowning and returned to the comfort of a roof, making love to the sound of a thunderstorm.

Who knew you could long for the sky ripping itself apart, just to find comfort in sounds of a distant memory.

I do.