Why is it that I fall for the things that leave me, I mean when I was eight I used to go out in hurricane winds because I liked the way the sky kissed me if only for a moment, I likes that the clouds tried to funnel into my lungs, I liked being loved rough and maybe that's why I find boys who bruise my hips and always tangle their fists in my hair before bringing their mouth to my lips, maybe that's why I'm a storm chaser, maybe that's why when I woke up, you had left.
