by Lea Anne Stoughton
Our love is thunder. Not the bright, sharp thunder that flares from nothing and is gone just as fast. Not the thunder that startles you awake in the night. That thunder is painful. It cracks you open, leaving phantoms in your eardrums. No, our love is the thunder that rumbles just above the surface of sound. It creeps into my sleeping, blurs dreams into waking. I feel it throbbing in my very center. It resets my heartbeat. Delicious and frightening is its power, immense, a purring lion. This thunder continues even in the silences between.
*Lea Anne is a freelance writer and mother of two. She enjoys pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.
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