sometimes,
there are those days
when things just flow.
You can either,
run indoors,
or get out your gumboots,
and jump in the puddles.

sometimes,
the days are dry.
your lips are parched,
and creativity eludes you.
You can despair,
turn up the volume of self-loathing,
or embrace the feels,
for some other experience.

sometimes,
there are days when you're juggling,
the myriad of experiences,
and it clicks...
they're all moments,
to be savoured.

No! It's not thunder I hear,
It's the roar of sirens cutting the propeller noise.
No! It's not aqua I feel,
It's the rain of metal and fire.
It's not Petrichor I smell,
The only smell is here of smoke and death.
No, the ground won't get washed away,
It will be painted in red and black.
Hyades have fled today, The universe is for Hades to take.

The pool of rain shadowed the sun, dancing with a tepid demeanor. City lights' glamour reduced the light of the sun—melancholy was evident on her face, accompanied by the distinguished incorporeal's breath of air. The late-afternoon tea and dried-out smoke of snowy November. 

It turned into night; the sun was still blatantly drowning in the pool of light, where a small trickle of its shadows tantalized the mockery arrayed in her face. Followed by the sickness in her stomach, pinching herself as she naively believed he loved her for all she is. 

After all, he was the one who called her a goddess and even paralleled her in the universe in which Aphrodite takes part. Surprisingly and naively, still believed conspicuous lies. It scarred her. A mountain that cannot be climbed; a river where blood flows continuously; a garden full of thorns. The face of a fool. 

The glamour wore off when he saw her on stage, where all of his queens and muses were. He wasn't even paying attention to her, and yet she was the only one who performed on stage—she rose and fell; she sang and moved like a goddess, surprising and naively believing he could take back her youth. 

He watched her rise. 
He watched her fall. 
He watched her lose her life. 

She hopelessly believed, with her skin and bones, that he'd choose her this time. He didn't.