It starts out small.
A simple feeling of it, barely a hint.
But more falls.
It builds, grows, and gets heavier.
It can soak to the bone.
At first, it's undetectable before it rushes down like a bag of rocks.
My heart beats with the thunder
THUD! THUD! THUD!
Inconsistent, loud, fast
With every strike of lightning, my throat seems to close.
My eyes seem to widen.
My breaths seem to stop.
The thunder get's louder
The lightning strikes more often
My heart get's louder
My breath strikes more often
I can't feel anything
Only my stomach in my lungs
Only my chest tightening
Only the constant panic
Just when I feel like I wouldn't be able to stand another clap of thunder, another strike of lightning,
It stops.
But does it?
My day is filled with storms and even the smallest of clouds can set it off.
YOU ARE READING
Just Breathe
PoetryAs a kid, I always struggled writing poetry. I understood that feelings had to go into poetry and I always tried writing about things other people did. I wrote about love (I was a little girl that's version of "love" was having a "relationship" with...
