You came unexpectedly. Like a welcome guest of old days. You glided into my sixteen-year-old curiosity, which, at the time was a week shy of wounds two months deep. You remembered smells and tastes and ****** puns. You flicked cigarettes with the vibe of breaking hearts. You lifted weights with the vibe of protecting your sister from all that could ever go wrong. You drove like that too. With the engine pushing, accelerating to over 200 kph on empty highways with Halsey booming through my smart-*** comments; so smooth, it felt like jumping off a cliff. Unlike how I felt after you left. I was full to the brim. Buzzing with poetry and sultry words. Little did I know that you had a string of babies like me. Ones that blog their moods in metaphors and mostly they are all dedicated to you.

I remember they say something about summer rain.