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Rain...
Rain, I allow to touch me,
Sink fingers into the roots of my hair,
Burrow himself in the creases of my lips,
Drip off of every fingertip,
Race down the bone of my spine—
I lie awake at night, listen to his words,
Pattering off of every one of my pores,
Diving into the puddles he makes outside my window,
Dipping myself into the stagnant water in the morning,
Every story he tells I ledge in a notebook—
The tintinnabulation of his thunderous voice,
Crashes against the drum of my ear,
I smile in the rough of his storm,
Praying this display of elegance won’t leave,
I yearn for such presence evermore—
As he is Rain,
You are Rain,
He is you—
Rain is you.

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