I stayed in the storm with you hoping that we could watch the sun break through the storm clouds. To have double rainbows frame our perseverance, and we’d hang it on the wall of our future home to remind ourselves that we made it, together.
I went into the storm unprepared but I was equipped with a love so strong that I was ready to battle the very worst with you. I was blinded by the sandstorms and I choked on the smog that brought tears to my eyes. I let myself dance with the tornados that rearranged my morals, my passions, and my identity. Scrambled, I barely made it out alive – unrecognizable – but I shielded my heart because I wanted to give it to you. I drowned in the quicksand and gave you my last drop of water while I trudged through the desert. I gave you my umbrella as we walked in the rain, I gave you my coat during the frigid winters. I gave you my strength when the thunder bellowed and the wind blew mercilessly at us. We’ll be okay.
When the storms calmed, we saw a meteor together that illuminated the clear, night sky. We had missed the opportunity to make a wish as it fizzled out before we recognized what we were witnessing. But I saw it as a sign of hope for us and wished on it even after it disappeared. I hope that our love burns as bright, and for as long as a star. I looked at you wanting to ask if you had wished for the same, but I was too afraid to hear your answer.
One night I sat with a broken heart, the one that I so carefully shielded. I tried so hard to grasp onto my heart while I ventured through every single storm, I clenched my first too hard and shattered it without even knowing. All that remains is fine dust that will slip through my fingers when I unclasp my hands from yours. At first I blamed myself for breaking my heart. I no longer had a heart to love you with, to forgive you with, and to care for you with. I took parts of me to fill the missing void in my chest, hoping that I could love you with that instead. I took part after part until there was nothing left of me. Still it was not enough to get us through the storms.
Now I’m sitting here tonight with nothing but a pile of dust that has collected between our hands, yet still, I cling onto yours in fear of losing whatever I have left of myself. I pull out polaroids of you to reminisce, to ease the pain, and to fuel my perseverance.
Then I see it.
The first picture, a vast whiteness, almost mistaken as an overexposed picture, if not for the subtle silhouette of snowy hills hidden by the grains of snow. 
The second picture, a grey gradient that almost looks toxic purple, so thick that the smell of smoke lingers in the film that is covered by a thin layer of ash. 
The third picture, a flurry of golden brown. A vortex of sand only barely recognizable in the corner of the shot.
The rest of the pictures slip out of my hand and fall to the floor: one of a hurricane, the other a thunderstorm.
You were always just a storm that I was never meant to tame.
six years late. 