Am I Who You Think I Am? Poem by Anya Nikolaevna

When the night sky
lit up his room,
and his eyes
wandered from one star
to the other,
the voice appeared.

The same familiar
incomprehensible whispers;
almost from a dream.
He started the same chase.
He could feel her voice get closer.
But he would not find her.

She was sobbing.
Dark and thick clouds gathered.
It was raining, pouring.
He could hear her screams,
accompanied by
by lightning and
thunder,
getting
louder,
getting
stronger.

The world was spinning as
he fell on the damp grass.
Looked up to the sky,
just clouds.

He sat there wondering
if he will ever find her;
whoever is calling him,
the person, he thought,
could light up his world.

Little did he know
that she was the storm;
the drops of rain
caressing his skin
are her tears,
every lightning came from
every punch to the floor,
and the thunder
came from her screams.

I am the storm...
Do not get closer.