Even after all, I still believe in love stories.
We were already thunder and lightning,
a terrifyingly — beautiful disruption to this Earth and sky.
We were the storm that never cleared.
Just as if we were locked inside this foolish fuckery — we waited in vain in our straw house full of flames, orchestrating our own heartbreak — knowing nobody ever made a home out of a burning building.
In this house party for two…
