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April 25, 2013
Love, to you, it's standing under an umbrella.
Watching everyone else get soaked,
As you stand, dry, wondering
If it would feel better to be drenched
Down your bones, so void of warmth
You don't know whether to laugh or cry,
Or if the comfort of your umbrella
Is just seductive enough.

You'd like to think of Love as a person.
He likes to sit in alcoves
And bend pages of books
To mark the places
He'll share with you
When you're lost and don't know what to do.

He tucks your insecurities
Under sleep rumpled covers
And in worn down envelopes,
Locking them away so
You don't have to face them just yet.

The weight of the world
Is nothing compared to
The weight of the burdens
He lets himself take off of
Your shoulders.

You've seen Love, waiting,
On park benches, and
Under rain tinted awnings
And sometimes you just can't fool yourself.

You'll call out to him,
Voice shaky and uncertain,
And he'll turn his head and smile.
You'll say,

“I want your name
To be a tattoo between the spaces
Of my freckles,
Permanent, black ink,
So when you whisper it onto my skin,
I'll have the imprint to keep
When the razor is a temptress
And I am much too lonely.

I want you to be the
Crescendo climbing up my
Taking the words out of my body
Until my lungs are empty,
And my heart feels like an illness
And your name is the only

I want to step out into the rain with you.
I want to be loved by you.
I want to create memories,
And erase nightmares with you.
Please,” you say, “I'll give anything,”
And Love, he gives you
This slow, sad half smirk,
And goes to say something
When the rain, it gets too heavy,
And the night, it gets too dark,
And Love, he's gone.

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