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You and the Rain MAG
Barricaded in the Victorian farmhouse.
They don’t make windows this big anymore.
First I see the sky light up for moments
That expand and swell ever outward, alive.
Later the drops of warm, magic rain –
When it soaks up the pavement it smells just like love.
And as the lightning becomes more frequent
(The sky tinged purple for hours),
I feel so solid, so whole and unreal,
Just thinking of you and the storm.
Where my every atom pulses toward you I follow –
Retracing your footfall to the soft grass outside,
Toward memories of every time we didn’t touch.
And how I know that our lips, distinct and uncertain,
Are at odds with two hearts, so full and mature.
The second embrace boldly and without hesitation,
Entwined like lovers.
Beating as if this storm is the end of the world;
While I know deeply and purely,
That if they were right in their morbid prediction,
All that matters is the feel of the rain;
The rainfall and you.