how it is to love him

"I was empty. Completely utterly vacant. It was as if my whole body had been sucked of feeling and color and moisture while it was replaced with the dust drifting through my arid mind. I was an endless desert. My skin was cracked and my throath was scorched. This bone-dry body had been desiccated for an eternity and I kne nothing else. 
 
But then I was met with a cloud that hazed the burning light of the sun. I dared to look, with a blink of my withered eyes. And I felt a drop.
 
It was water. Rain. A storm was being conjured up, and the wipsy, whirling clouds finally darkened that harsh sunlight, and I was afraid of it first. But drips of the cooling water continued, and they seeped into my pores and rolled down my face, not doing any harm but rather healing my burned body. Then the dark buckets tipped over, and I was able to tilt back my stiff neck and open my mouth. The rain touched my tounge and I swallowed it down my parched throath, where it suppressed the dust and filled me up. And I laughed, loud in the desert that now roared with wondrous thunder at how good it was to feel alive again.

That's what it was to love him."
 
 
 
 
 
 
 











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