Beach dress soaked from the rain.

Jumping in puddles with flip-flops while we run to the highest peak.

The high waves, the horizon and the brazilian rain.

I felt like one with the world.

The heavy rain cleansed my body from the salty ocean water.

I wish I could stand there forever,
to just watch the powerful nature work it's magic.

So soaked it felt like my whole body was made of water,
I started to shiver from the cold.

We kept running along the filthy streets.

Splashing ***** water at each other like children.

Lips blue from the cold,
yet I felt a strong fire burning inside me,
more intense than I've ever felt.

All I could think about was how beautiful life is,
it's all about moments like these.

So full of life I knew I'd always treasure the memories from this day.

Getting soaked to the bone

Until some kind people stopped

And offered me an umbrella

A hot shower
A warm meal
A cozy fire

And a new home

Don't come knocking on my door
When you've seen I've found better

Because the rain has stopped

And all I have left to give

Is a scorching heat to burn you with

it’s raining. when the drops hit the roof, a harmonic sound is made. a melody. it’s a whole new genre of music by itself. so peaceful.
and even though people are bouncing and sulking, and completely soaked by the tears of the sky, it does not change the fact, that it’s raining.
i think the world needed that.

Caught by showers in the wild
We hide beneath a tree
The snake is in your eyes
And the apple is my lips

* *

Eden’s’ reach
Translucent touch
Fingers trickle down
I watch the glow
Into your irises
I catch the flow
At the corners of your mouth

* *

Translucent fingers’ touch
Trickles down your face
Slowly close your eyes
And every drop is me

Flood is rushing down
The trenches of my palm
Falling into view
And every drop is you

I either write when I'm in love or in pain.

So call me the constant writer.

But be not afraid when you see my poems drenched in blood,

For they are all like that.

Because I only write when I'm in love or in pain,

And for me those are the same.

When I was a kid
I spent time alone
Probably more than my fair share
But it wasn't bad at first
It was liberating.
At first, I discovered myself
I discovered the universes that existed
At the pinpoint of my imagination
A true world of wonders

I remember tiny snippets of freedom
Long walks in the park with my hands tucked into my pockets,
Or my hair getting soaked from the rain when I'd walk home

Back then "on my own" was somehing I fancied
Like a childish crush
Where I only wanted it because,
Hell.
It made me feel good
It made my heart pound
When I could spend just a second listening to my breath

But now. I've learned the consequences
The damage I've done to myself
From spending that much time
Alone.

Like the main the author must die
their lives written out, bound by a books spine
Their eyes are yours, you have what's left of their mind.
How tragic the story line was?
Well that was their lives.
They give you who they are, so you can read to
throw away some time.
Months to years of their lives soaked up in a weeks time.
But yes like the main, their creator must die.
But they are immortal in another way.
Their mind might die but their world will stay.
With hands now plagued with arthritis, and blind milky filmed eyes
They cannot tell you about their mains lives.
Aged is their mind, taken by time,
But immortal is the world they created....
A whole world...in a few hundred pages...lives carried out
and then shut down....
Yes like their main an author must die.