Spit. Lie.

You Will Hear Thunder (Anna Ahkmatova)

You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

- - -


Never, ever lie to me.
Not when I have been good to you like this.
You don't know me. I can get vindictive.
I rammed my head into yours and I didn't feel a thing, right?
Don't ruin this.