i.
they say to share an umbrella is to share your heart. it's pouring outside, everyone's so busy, that the only thing thing they share right now is the sidewalk.

but, hey. this makes me want to paint what love sounds like. i want to paint the stars on your chest and the rain boots stepping in puddles on your abdomen.

i'll paint the umbrellas on your eyelids so i can treasure them as you sleep.

ii.
they say to share an umbrella is to share a moment you won't want back. it's hellish and bustling outside. no one bothers to look up and wish for the stars when they have so much to do.

but, still. this makes me remember how rich and lovely our moments were even if separated by time, but do i want them back?

i'll tape poems on the ceiling , so i never forget what it's like to feel beautiful.

iii.
they say to share an umbrella is to be suspended in time. when the red of the stoplight shines, the cars stop and the people go, go, go.

but, darling.this makes me think. if we could go back in time would you be a car or a person? would you be halting for the travelers, or moving forward leaving the cars behind?

i'll sing along to any song you want me to babe.