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Clarissa Jun 2021
Tears falling from her lifeless eyes
Their salty taste

Rain drops falling from silvery sky
Their tiny shape

Tears falling down her alabaster cheeks
In their own rhythm

Rain drops falling from colourless sky
Tapping so evenly

Putting out her shaking hand
Water so delicate

Tears falling down her face
Rain drops falling from the sky

Isn’t it wonderful to have
Such company in despair…
Skye Jan 2021
ヽ`、ヽ``、ヽ`  rヽヽ`、``、ヽ`、ヽ`ヽ、ヽeヽ`、、ヽ
W    、、ヽ`ヽ`      aヽ`、ヽ`. w、ヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ.  dヽ``、ヽ
e ヽ`、ヽ`ヽ`、  c 、ヽ`ヽ`  h、ヽ`、ヽ`ヽ ヽ   gヽ`、ヽ`
ヽ a ヽ` o `ヽ`、 i 、ヽ`ヽ`. o``、ヽ`、ヽ`ヽ e`、ヽ`ヽ
、 rヽ`.  nヽ`、、 n、` s ヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ`ヽヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ`ヽ
` e 、、  l ヽ`ヽ` g、ヽ e、ヽ. f ヽヽ`、``、ヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ`
`ヽ`、 yヽ`、ヽ`ヽ` eヽ`  a、、ヽ`ヽ   oヽ`ヽ`、ヽ``、
ヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ`ヽl`ヽ`、ヽ`fヽヽ  t `ヽ f、ヽ`
`、``、ヽ`、. t、ヽ`ヽ`、 lヽ`、ヽ``fヽ` hヽ`  i、ヽ、
ヽ`、、ヽ`ヽ、  oヽ``、ヽ`sヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ`  e、ヽ  r、ヽ、
ヽヽ`、``、ヽ`、ヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ­`ヽ`、`ヽ`、、ヽs、、ヽ
、ヽ`、、ヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ`ヽ`、、ヽ`ヽ`、ヽ``、ヽtヽ``
place your hand against the window, and
trace the sky's teardrops as they
fly away from the fog of
your fingertips.
◊ ◊ ◊
©Skye
rk Jul 2020
he told me he loved the rain
the same as i did
what he meant,
was that he loved to watch
from behind the window
and listen as it gently tapped
against the glass.
when i say i love the rain
i mean that the roar of thunder
awakens my bones,
just as the smell of lightning
fills my lungs.
i hear it kissing the earth
and all at once
i can't stop myself
from running outside
and letting it consume me.
- maybe that is why it would never have worked.
Chia Seeds Jun 2020
It’s the assurance of petrichor after rain
that makes me believe in rainbow after pain.
Senthil Rhaj Jun 2020
The best mornings are made up of
waking up to new horizons abroad,
caducity not in my thought,
smell of the fresh day
— as pure as petrichor;
the day born as richer,
‘tis a new tune in embouchure
between past and future.
fray narte Aug 2019
There's something about falling in love with shooting stars and REM dreams and library books and strangers in the train, whose eyes meet yours for a split second. There's something about falling in love with petrichors that last for half an hour, with the songs you hear without knowing the title, with paper boats under the rain and CDs with scratches, with that person you spent a 5 am with in a desolate park, talking about life and sadness and life — what even is the difference, without ever knowing their name.

There's a nameless feeling, probably something between resigned and bittersweet, about falling in love with temporary things. Maybe it's knowing that I've lost some things forever. It's knowing that I should always learn to let go — knowing that they won't ever come back.

And so won't you. Darling, at least, losing them didn't hurt.
Dayna Aug 2019
In the city, it smelled good. the smell of smoke, smelled good. The smell of smog, smelled good, the Mexican food, smelled good, the smell of the heat, smelled good, and pinched my nose too.... But the petrichor smelled best. Because when it rained, it smelled like concrete. The concrete smelled good.
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