Storm

My love I will not ask you to be a pigeon or a dove cooing your pleasures away in our liquid moments of love. I will not ask you to be tender or to be a timid voice, suspended in song. If you must be anything, my Eve please be thunder, and shake the foundation of our union with the audacity of your desire. Unleash a cry from within with a purity that vibrates glass. Do not let your touch become ordinary like words uttered without meaning or intent. Do not be a sapphire sky filled with birds in flight. If you choose to be anything, my love, let it be lightning. Yes, be lightning, and write your name across my chest in fluorescent text. Show me what it means to be electrocuted by your nails.