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Samuel Fox Jun 2015
I can taste the kiss of last night’s rain,
its touch so gentle, as if my body
were a pond rippling from drizzle.

We humans have a language
we choose not to speak,
a brimming tower of gestures meaning

nothing, at least, until we say them.
Hands that float like foreign syllables,
twitching legs that jitter in time

to the anxiety of others’ conversations.
Posture can hold an argument of its own
the way it makes us sturdy as bronze.

In this darkness, I shake my silence
like a bad dream. I want to be honest.
I want to be a silver thread sown

into this patchwork quilt world. The rain
whispers yes. It says let me kiss you
so that your lips feel like they’re dancing.
Bunny Mar 2015
Faded Glory
Sweatshirt clenches my
teary salt seas.
Mascara on cotton
like drizzle upon Asphalt.
Amy H Mar 2015
the rain was just a drizzle
like my feelings any more
as we stood in awkward chat
and you can't find me any more.
not in here, at least,
in a quasi-happy fete,
with celebrations halted
because they make you fret.
I can't see my heart to give it
for it's always given back
and we'll stand in smoke and raindrops
with me turning myself black.
the black;
it can't reflect the light
so you'll perhaps not see
that my eyes have turned away
and my heart it didn't stay
and the part you have
is just the surface-me.
I won't let go, or let you in,
not again.
you'll only get the drizzle
not the swim.
My how it flows when it's a current, current.
Pitter patter,
pitter patter.

The rain echoed in your head,
as you tried to remember what the drizzle sang
On that cloudy noon in November.

With its rhythmic tune
And endless repetition,
It danced its way to your sun roof
installation.
Staining the back of your mind with images of tear drops,
shed by the clouds.
For the skies missed your company.

The rain drops,
Quietly tapped on the,
Glass panes of your apartment; reminding you to use your umbrella.

Their warning useless,
Because you never wanted one.
Never needed one.
Even as the cool shower
came rolling through town.

You were there: Umbrellaless.

See,
The dreary weather here seemed so...
Relaxing.

Well,
not to anyone but you..

But it was as if the rain that day,
brought a hint of restlessness.
The aroma of coffee shops
became tempting,
like little boy's feet
drawn to sidewalks full of puddles.

They teased and tickled your exposed skin,
Those parts unsheltered by your favorite grey cotton sweater

The rain left the scent of wet pavements and fallen leaves,
lingering on the tip of your nose and top.

It seemed like one of those days:
Reading your book;
Your body tangled up in the couch;
A blanket to warm you;
Freshly brewed tea on hand,
as the endless chime of drizzling kept you company.

To you,
it was the most sensible thing.

The bustle of the city went mute as you walked along the avenues and streets.
(Especially without an umbrella.)
For where you went, you felt the rain.
While others got wet.

And for that brief stroll around the city,
slightly damp.

You were lost in the rain.
Calm and free.

For the rain was your friend,
And you were his..
Pitter patter,
pitter patter,
pitter patter.

I hope it  rains today.    

Sent from my iPad
It kinda drizzled today
Sanket Shrestha Oct 2014
Her kind of rain was the kind that drizzled

Her drizzles were like soft rain,
On grey days, they made perfect sense to align with interspersed clouds hanging heavy on blue-less skies
But on days when a storm beckoned it's calling
I lost her,
She drowned
Somewhere
Where it never drizzled
Always rained.
Velvet Taiga Jun 2014
Bullets of water
On a quiet afternoon
A wet June drizzle
Labyrinth Apr 2014
Without you it's so dismal,
I tell you, it's not blissful!
But still bae, it's a drizzle,
With you here in the middle,
Oh my, It's still a fist full!
My Norman Nomore
If I didn't have you on skype, I would have 8 hours of my day free.
Why are you 'grieving'?
24.04.14

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