She was good at being beautiful,
at drinking in sunshine and vodka and kissing me until my head spun.
She had thunderclaps tucked in her bones,
like she’d saved them all up over a thousand years of summer storms.
I never pretended I didn’t see the gray clouds hanging around her sad smile like cigarette smoke.
I knew she had enough to last her a lifetime.
But believe me when I say,
there was lightning in her eyes.