I no longer dance
under a raincloud of poems
but if you let me,
I’ll pull you
under every tiny bit
of cloud I find
and we can dance under them;
our sadness,
condensing into raindrops —
our façade,
melting with the petrichor —
as if a downpour of words
will wash away
the bruises and scars
and baptize our soul anew.
a clean slate;
like the soil after the storm,
like leaf patterns that
know happiness
like a summer day,
reborn.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 10:26 PM UTC
I no longer dance
under a raincloud of poems
but if you let me,
I’ll pull you
under every tiny bit
of cloud I find
and we can dance under them;
our sadness,
condensing into raindrops —
our façade,
melting with the petrichor —
as if a downpour of words
will wash away
the bruises and scars
and baptize our soul anew.
a clean slate;
like the soil after the storm,
like leaf patterns that
know happiness
like a summer day,
reborn.
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