There’s something about this weather that makes me ache in the deepest places of my soul. It stirs something akin to the Balrog hidden within the columns of my memory. I feel like there’s a great force churning under my tongue, waiting to fly, lest it burst through my ribs and break my heart.
I want to scream onto the highway- windows down, music up. Loud. Fast. I want my hair to whip across my face and get tangled around my ears. I want stars reflected on still waters and the chipped paint of his old car. I want to settle into familiar arms- arms that I have not yet met.
These are nights that prove what we’re made of. The nights that are full of cricket carol and bullfrog lullaby, smothered in the shadow cast from the Cheshire Cat’s Grin.