It Might Take All Night To Fall Asleep But I Don'T Mind

Sitting in the front seat of a rustic truck, whose paint has seen more thunderstorms than my skin has years, you look so still, like a porcelain doll, with the fading light of the tired sky casting its blue blankets over both our eyes. Through the pitter-patter as raindrops splatter on the roof, in time with the erratic static of the radios endless loops I can hear you breathing in... and out... And as raindrops trickle down the windows their silhouettes becoming waterfalls; shadows running down your face and over your cheeks to your lips... down your neck, and under the warm thick folds of the blanket that hides wordless fingertip games. The sound of your breath like slow tide interrupted by a tidal wave; a thunder clap so loud we shake. An electric explosion so bright it wakes the souls of the living that were secretly sleeping, safe and sound with the darkness deepening. My arms pull you close and your arms pull you closer, pressing your ear to my chest and my chest to your ear so tight that it's easy to hear the my own thunder inside. Your eyes close, your heart slows, and as your pulse settles down the trees start to dance and sway, gently, side to side, through the wind and rain. Our stories begin to unfold in sleep and in dreams as the rain begins to fade. And through the clouds comes a different trickle, or rather, a leak; a lonely sun beam warming your cheek.