you woke me up in april storms and may flowers. i can't recall the place or the time or or even what you wore, but i remember you.
i prayed for rain that dry, unwelcome summer. god never liked unwelcome requests and rain dances and unwavering smiles. god laughed at me that summer.
autumn approached and i fell hard into your warm millpond, and i felt your love. but god did not grant me the serenity i felt i deserved. and so i'd wade around, waiting.
the day you held my frigid fingertips, you plucked my heartstrings. my mind, soaked in thought and misery, could not keep up with the way you made my heart beat.
we didn't believe in the superstition of umbrellas or the well-understood chance of rain. perhaps it was by happenstance that i drowned under the taste of your lips that cold july day.
and now i stand at this taciturn train station with my eyes to the sky, waiting for it to pour, to pour. i never believed in the forecast until it told me there was a 60% chance of seeing you.