She loved thunderstorms.
The chaos and the danger
The cracks of thunder
That shook the walls
The electricity sparking
Right before her eyes
But all the while she was safe
Covered by her blanket
Watching the chaos
From her window
In a way, she was his thunderstorm
Often dark, a bit frightening
The occasional bursts of light
So fascinating it was hard to look away
But just one strike was enough
To end it all, and he knew that
He liked that, he liked the risk
And he also liked the repetition
He liked that when he heard
The roar of her thunder
The bright light would follow
Each and every time
But just like those thunderstorms
She had to come to an end
After all the turmoil and thrill
There would inevitably come a calm
And somehow it happened so subtly
That no one realized it
Until she was gone
No one ever hears the last crack of thunder
No one ever sees the very last lightning bolt
No one ever feels the last raindrop
But it will end.
It will always end.