Storms in August

We chatter endlessly, filling voids that only the two of us can see. We drank bottles and bottles of mistrust, hanging our heads out the back windows of your car to rid our heavy bodies of shame. I peeled back the wrapping only to find that the presentation was worth more than the contents. We watched screens telling lies about the world and how it rotates. You were climbing out of my window rambling on about restlessness and the weight of water. My limbs shrink at the joints. I hear my name whispered in songs that are sung in a different language. A quirk of your eyebrow and the sand washes off the beaches to reveal God's hands. Nervous laughter calms my heart as her feet shuffle toward the door. I can hear her breath getting hitched in her throat and my eyes drain of all color. Feathers fall from the sky and the heat ignites them before they hit the ground.