The Storm

A cold empty restaurant is more comforting than your arms was. The rain as it drips down the window like the cold tears on my cheek that night. The thunder rumbling as if you was yelling, the lightning as if it was your bright smile. The empty booth in the restaurant as we had out first day there now it's cold and empty as others sit there smiling and laughing the spark was there but where is it now? Do you still have that spark or did it fade the way our convo's would as days passed and passed and now I go to that restaurant staring at the booth as I relived that night while the storm is pouring down and the lightning runs through the clouds, The storm is more comfort than your arms.