Cascades by ANM.

The guy and girl were born of storms. Not colliding, but rather a recognition of two polar magnets that found a pull, not push. That force, which bends light and rewrites physics, led to a first kiss in a sanctuary of dim lights and four fingers of brown liquid. A story ignited, so flammable it's chapters were of wildfires, droughts, slammed doors and lies, profound and petty. We have been each others villain and victim, destroyer and destroyed, at times carving canyons.

Yet, after every drought, the rain. After every cold front, warm touches and embraces. Knowing our rhythm. Fracture, mend. Unspoken apologies when a hand is placed just so. Bound.

The Grand Drama is burning its self out, leaving not ash, but soil. Soon, our story will exist in the quietness of the pines: forgiveness with the sun and moon, love that hums calmly with in the roots, deep and immovable.