Storm Writer

Storm Writer

There I sat staring into nothingness as cold drops – residue from a great storm – cradled my skin, and the cruel wind hugged me silly. I like to do this a lot – sit out here in the open looking into nothing. My beloved say it’s my way of rebelling against my muse for daring to leave me when I needed her the most. Yes! “Her” – she is well known as Storm, and I the Storm WriterThis is the third time she’s leaving me, so I sit here. I don’t know if I’m waiting for her, I’m not sure I am. I don’t know if I’ll welcome her with arms stretched out, I don’t know if she’ll ever come back.
I don’t know a lot of things these days. So I take pleasure in sitting here after every storm, knowing nothing, staring at nothing, and expecting nothing – safe way to live I must say. Safe but not my style. My style – an addition to the list of things I don’t know anymore.

It won’t be long before my beloved comes out, with a blanket and a cup of that thing that makes me sick and feel like gutting out my innards. I will refuse him today. I’ll wait out here in the cold if I must. Oh! I will wait. Today I’ll see the end of this thing, and if I’m unlucky it will see my end instead.

Photo Credit: Instagram||@mrtaylordani

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