When Lightning Loves the Cloud
I am the storm—
restless, electric,
craving the thunder of your name
in the silence between us.
You, a drifting cloud,
aloof and pale,
slipping from my reach
with every grasp I make—
your eyes, a horizon
I can never quite touch.
I send you messages
like lightning,
split-second flashes
of need and hope—
each one met with your
gentle, distant rain,
soft refusals
that soak my longing
but never fill it.
I want to believe
in the reason of your retreat,
to trust your silence
as something sacred,
not a verdict
on my worth.
But faith is hard
when my heart is a circuit,
sparking,
wired for connection,
always searching
for the flicker of your return.
You say you need space—
I offer you galaxies,
but my gravity aches
for your orbit,
even as you slip further
into your own sky.
Still, I wait
at the edge of every storm,
hoping you’ll come back
with rain,
with thunder,
with the wild honesty
of a love that can’t be contained
or reasoned away.
I am the storm,
and you, the cloud—
we are weather,
unpredictable,
but real.
If you ever want to land—
I’ll be here,
arms open
like the earth,
aching for rain,
aching for you.

…

DCG