volatile-memories

You've never been one to like storms. On the night we're together there's one tearing thru the sky. The wind seems to scream our names, calling to us. They both beckon us outside. I grasp your hand and offer you a reassuring smile as I open the door. You've never been one to like storms. Shying into me, you remember the times you've been given that smile and a hand to hold. One after the other, you were given no protection from the wind that whipped your delicate face. One after the other, you were given no protection from the rain that stung your porcelain skin. I think to myself that it's time to change that. You've never been on