Storms

Lightning strikes midnight and she is still awake.
She counts––waiting for the inevitable thunder that will echo in her skull.
She gets to five and then the crashing clouds take hold of her beating heart and it skips;
one,
two,
three beats.
She tries catching her breath only to find that her lungs were struck down during the storm.
So she swallows her words because no one will hear her whispered pleas.
She chokes back a cry of desperation, chokes back her panic, chokes, chokes, chokes.
Her heart is in her throat and her words are stuck there, too.
She wants to dislodge them,
but she fears that the only sound that will escape her lips is a strangled sob,
and nobody knows how to respond to that.
Her eyes are dry but they tell the story of why she is afraid of summer storms.
They betray her as they tell all of her secrets to everyone and no one.
She feels lost and abandoned and that's what she fears more than a little thunder.
She is tired of losing.
She shuts everyone and no one out at the same time.
She can't be abandoned if she's got nothing to lose.
And this is her life.