Zebra Seeking Spoons

The air thickens before the words do.

A pressure builds—unspoken, electric.

I feel the storm rise beneath my ribs,

clouds forming where calm should live.

Lightning thoughts,

restless wind of what-ifs.

Every heartbeat feels like thunder.

But storms can’t last forever.

They spend themselves

against the quiet.

And when the rain finally stops,

I find myself standing

in a softer kind of silence—

one that smells like renewal,

like the world has forgiven me

for feeling so much.