A poem by Julia R. DeStefano

Photo by Shashank Sahay on Unsplash

You are so quiet.

How many storms must you carry?

Weighing upon your shoulders like Atlas.

How many storms are you made of?

Your silent thunder

pushing me away with both hands

in this whiplash shift

from light to pitch dark skies.

Another unexpected downpour

when the forecast called for sun.

And I feel hallucinatory.

Doubtful of myself, of my experience

as your lightning strikes.

Cracking through my heart

to sever all I believed to be true.

I know you not in these moments,

though I long for your smile

like an overwrought mind longs for rest.

A cool breeze to caress the cheek.

Glistening hair to fall around you,

not unlike October’s leaves dancing upon air.

For I too am alive with storms,

though we soften for the ones we care for.

Because the relationship of our dreams

is not found but created.

Sometimes among the heaviest storms.

But I can’t throw my arms around a tornado

refusing my love and its stability.

Not when that tornado is of the mind.

The Red Queen in her crown. YA & adult poetry. Love & relationships. I preserve moments in the glistening amber of language. #WhirlingIntoFlame now available.