Clouds are forming in my
whether you answer what I want to hear
is whether or not the weather
will be rain or shine.
You're making up your mind
every second you don't speak is
lightening in my chest and thunder in my throat.
Though my lungs contain air
I can't imagine making words
in fear of a storm cracking through.
As we're silent it's hailing
my fingers are tingling and my heart is in my throat.
I love you
I can't imagine hurting you.
Then we wouldn't have to have such an ordeal with the weatherman.
Such sad whether or nots
making me internal into weather knots.