she likes to collect words on scraps of paper and crinkled post-it-notes
that get lost in the folds of her beautifully cluttered mind
but for her, half the fun is discovering them all over again
pulling them out and falling for them.
[for some reason, words are easier to love than people]
she's been waiting for a good thunderstorm
since the thing she really misses most in the world is their electric taste
lately, she's taken to toting around her grandmother's old umbrella
with its vintage appeal and curved handle
which feels like black and white movie memories in her hand
she'll never use it though
since she likes the feel of the droplets drumming soft lullabies on her skin.
[she's never kissed in the rain
but she's been rainkissed and she's fallen for its flavor]
she dreams of living in old fashion silver screens
driving cars with curved cabs and low speeds
so that she doesn't miss the world passing her by.
[she's waiting for her own happy ending]
so when she walked down the gravel road
in the first rain shower of the season
she wasn't expecting some kind of miracle
in the form of a shadowed silhouette
drowning in the storm and his own thoughts
but when she saw him
something broke inside her
and she could feel herself falling.
[she used to be an unwavering cynic that didn't believe in love at first sight
but even she couldn't ignore her heart slamming against her ribcage trying to get out]
and as she stood with him haloed by rain in her sight
she felt the familiar weight of the curved handled umbrella in her hand
and she knew that if she opened it maybe she could catch all of her dreams
like falling silver star rain that she could wish upon
so she pushed the curving plastic and metal rods so that they'd offer some shelter
to a broken boy in the dew strewn grass with eyes grayer than the sky above
and when he looked up at her
she never knew that all he could see was a glistening skinned angel meant just for him
and as the rain kissed the curve of her jawline and the cars spit up gravel as they passed them by
she learned that maybe everything she thought was wrong.
[the world didn't change though
she did as she watched the shades of gray slip into color]
and some time later, as she was standing with the familiar flavor of raindrops on her lips
his hands in her hair and on the small of her back
she realized that kissing in the rain isn't so bad after all
and sometimes words can fail us all
and maybe, just maybe, loving people wasn't so hard.
[she's done with wishing and waiting
she finally believes in happily-ever-afters]
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Comments
--
Whats up?
But wishing stars,
and little men from mars.
--
" ...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."
Mine's not even close to yours (plus mine comes second so I can borrow from your brilliance not to mention the idea was all yours from the start. Okay, enough flattery.
And thanks so much as always.
And thanks so much, dearie
--
" ...he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."
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