the pitter-patter of droplets upon my windowpane tap relentlessly blowing left & right remind me of the storm we once created now settled deep into my mind oh, to get swept up in your storm the intensity of your words the passion brewing & spilling over the constant wind whipping & striking before the longest…

What about when the heart knocks back? Bloom: A Poem — Thistle Thoughts

your hands, your kiss I have been held and kissed before but nothing like this what is it about your hands, your kiss that makes me believe that nothing compares to this I could see into others’ eyes I could hold someone else’s hands but I don’t feel their soul like you feel mine