You clutched tightly the summer rain you wore like a cloak, fearful that if you let go, I would have seen how naked you really were.

Like the way the wind danced with your hair, you let the rain wash down. On my skin it stayed and into my mind it seeped, leaving perfect little dewdrops on those fragile threads of silk within. On each of them glistened the hopes and fears you often masqueraded as tears.

In the days and months after, some of the threads, heavy with consequences, broke and fell freely, taking with them those drops of dews.

You thought they were lost forever. But if you could look within me, you would see that this heart beats with your tears.

Advertisement