The Last Moments of Being in Love

We’re the personification of a thunderstorm after a heated summer day.

Relief is entangled in fresh air. The daisies in my cheeks are longing for rain.

As soon as the first droplets hit the chalky ground, a lightning strikes.

With the weight of my love I push you up a hill, disturbing the butterflies.

We’re the embodiment of warm July evenings turning chilly in the blink of an eye.

Fruit trees are tired from reaching for sun-kisses. The earth is bone dry.

When the thunder rumbles over the lonely fields, you’re carrying me deeper into the twilight zone –

Might as well run through the dark, the rain is so heavy it feels as if we have blinders on.

We’re the epitome of the golden hour paused by some biting wind.

The chimes are rocking back and forth, calling me saint right after I’ve sinned.

Rosy sky trickles down so quick, burns our skins aimlessly, like a pint of lava.

But we’re taken by the touch, we don’t see it.

When they’re asking which vices to erase, we both whisper “nada”.