She moved like smoke.
Wafting about.
Tempting.
As smooth as warm water.
Holding her would be like sliding into a hot shower on a cold day.
I'd imagine her whisper to be like caramel.
Despite what I imagine though.
Regardless of what I see when I look at her.
She still finds herself standing in the rain.
Jumping in puddles hoping one of them will be deep enough to consume her entirely.
Cursing herself because she can't dodge the raindrops.
I'll never ask her to come in from the rain.
That'd be asking her to change who she is.