I was lying on the grass dotted by raindrops fallen from the sky.
It was grayish blue and the sun wasn’t there to shine upon me with my head on my blue bag and my legs bent at the knees.
My phone buzzed once or twice, I didn’t look.
I was listening to a singer’s song, so hooked.
It was my last day here at the festival, I was worn out by waiting in lines just to stare into celebrities’ eyes.
I sought a little bit of paradise,
something to remember,
something so ephemeral.
And when I looked up to the sky with my eyes shut tight I felt something just as momentary and small and fragile hitting my forehead gently and gracefully and I felt
cool with having given him a try.
Facing love with raindrops falling from the sky.
I’m so bad, I’m so bad.
But I’m so good at it.
I can’t help but be bad.
It’s a hard habit.
But I’m soft like the clouds, the fluffy ones, not thunderclouds, and I can tell a good guy from a ******* sucker.
It’s just I’m nervous when I smile, I see chairs lined up and I see people cheering for us and I don’t know if I can last a while
in a relationship.
If I want to marry, ever.
I don’t wanna tell my family and go to dinners together at randomly chosen places strewn across the burning desert.
At times like this I look up to the gray-blue sky, try to touch it with my fingertips and I drown my worries out in summer festivals, lay my head on yellow arid grass and I lie
so alive
raindrops falling on me gently from the darkening sky.
I count them, I feel one, two, three, four, five.
That’s five good things that happened to me since I said yes to this one good guy.
Wish he was here beside me.
Where he comes from there’s no rainclouds in the sky.