I woke up on my back, staring into the eye of a midnight storm. I lay, slick basalt cliff beneath me, an electric tunnel twisting a circle up, up, with me in the center, remembering your eyelashes curled from those tears dripping off the edge of yesterday, the sunlit aftermath of an ice storm, silver clouds spiraling in slow motion. If my eyes close, I know I’ll see you sleeping. The storm will forget its brief lapse in pace, tomorrow’s tempest raging on when the sun shakes us awake.
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