I miss the thunderstorms
of my childhood,
the ones that lasted for hours at a time,
rumbling and rolling above my head.
I miss sitting still by the window,
watching as the wind
whipped branches and leaves around,
as the rain spat at the garden
and the glass.
I miss the thunderstorms
I grew up with.
YOU ARE READING
all blood, no tears
Poetrya collection of poems and some 3am thoughts from a broken soul *possible trigger warning* this story deals with sexual assault, abuse, depression, anxiety, suicide & addiction. if you are struggling, reach out. it's okay to not be able to do everyt...
