The winds they howl; screaming, crying, lashing the cold, hard rain against the glass, uprooting earth and flowers and trees, destroying the material world once so solid beneath my feet.
The winds they howl; wailing, moaning, breathing life into this torment, this longing that tears mercilessly at this woman wanton, that whispers cruelly into the long, deep dead of night, that caresses me with the sweet gruffness of his voice, the sound of my name on his lips, the weight of his body bearing down, his thick hard beguiling flesh, the hands possessing me tight, the touch, the kiss, the fire setting me free.
The winds they howl; groaning, yelling, words of dissonance, of resonance, remainders, reminders of the feelings that make perfect yet little sense, that flood my mind with its complexity, that knot my stomach, that seize my heart, that capture my skin and flesh and cunt and soul, racing, pulsing, pounding with its simplicity, that have me crazed and yearning, that have me wanting him, wanting us, needing you in every way, in every way I have imagined, in every way this passion has yet to conceive.
The winds they howl; the winds they howl. My love for you, the winds they howl.