I stood outside in a thunderstorm
and let the deluge soak me to the skin.
I'm not sure why I did it.
I was wearing spandex and a sports bra,
about to take a bath,
when a peal of thunder ripped through the sky,
and rain came pouring out of the hole it left behind.
I stepped out into the tempest, shuddering and twitching
like a severed limb of an octopus.
The rain was cold and relentless—
every drop an electric shock to my system.
But I stood at its mercy, letting it batter me back and forth.
I felt the water running down my face and legs in little streams,
and my chest was heaving from no exertion at all.
Afterwards... I went inside.
I was soaking wet, and promptly took my bath.
The moment had past...
leaving behind
nothing.
No message.
No meaning.
No risk.
No repercussions.
I took the storm into myself and made it a part of me,
and it hardly knew I was there.
YOU ARE READING
Counting Down the Days
PoetryIt is the summer before I leave for college, and I am staring into the empty abyss before me, wondering what to do with my life. In this collection, I am challenging myself to write something every day (now adjusted to every 2-3 days). I may write p...