Storm

By Sreya Sreedas

I'll come for you.

When our wild youth slips through our fingers and these feelings set in stone fades in the swelling Strom.

Once the storm is silent. And our heart's are brimming with the heat of anger and the icy marrow throbs in our bones.

When tears turn to sweat and sweat to blood.

I'll come.

And as a gentle balm,

Spread across your callused palms.

Kiss your fingertips as gently as the snow does the last autumn leaves.

Let me love you then,

in the last slanting ray of the sun through your windows.

When the hard rain patters on the panes,

Let me kiss you then like the lavender laden leventer.

In the warm darkness;

let me be the gently lapping waves over your heart.

Let my name become the throb of thunder in you chest. Let the needle of my memories draw the thread spun from my name across your heart. Let it pull together all those rusting pieces I want.

I'll come. I'll remind you.

I'll carve our promise on stronger stuff than stone.

I'll etch it on your bones.

On your lips. On your skin. On your feet.

Till every inch of you bears my warmth.

I'll come. I'll remind you.

I'll weather the storm again.

Because darling, I am a wilder thing than you thought.

I belong in the storm.

And you chose me.

Let it consumes you.

Mind, heart, body and soul.

Let it rage.

In the height of swirling wild madness of no patterns moving with savage grace, you will know me.

Should you come looking for me,

You'll find me

In the center,

In the absolute serenity, surrounded by the mundanes' insanity,

You will find me.

Waiting.

Just like I promised.

By Sreya Sreedas