The last time it rained,
I stood in it with you.
We stood pressed as the drops rain over our faces like Holy Water,
absolving us of the judgement from the day.
We stood pressed, letting kisses wash our souls clean.
The quiet strum of spanish guitar moves through the air
and headlights illuminate the drops as they fall from the sky to my hair,
to your shirt, still warm and already damp from a long day of work.
You are singing softly in my ear, and I am lost in
all that you are.
You say that you only sing for me. I believe you. I always believe in you.
Because my voice, my heart, and this soul only sings for you.
Searching hands over slick wet skin find the sanctuary they’ve searched so long for
and finally we are able to breathe.
The rain whispers ‘forever’ as you whisper ‘always’ and I am yours.
I feel a drop making it’s way from my forehead down the side of my face, and I travel with it on a journey
The things we could be if we were brave enough to step off the ledge.
Time is such a tragic, beautiful, mysterious lover. A gift giving, thieving adulteress who can lift us up
and ruin us in one sweep.
All things in time, they say.
All things in time.
Today it rains,
and though you are there, and I am here,
know that I can feel you pressing your cheek to mine as we move to the music
and that with each drop that falls, each song that plays,
I am still yours.