the year the rain ran its sharp nails on our roof and broke through the doors of our little town into our kitchen floor, you and I, we hardly left our beds except to peer out through the window. all day and night, we held the flaming sun in our dreams, i remember how it felt, it even burned my fingers, a little.

Comments(8)

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Profile picture of user: lyra

beautiful as always 💕

Profile picture of user: creativechronicle

Your poems are Always intrigued and amazing ❤❤

Profile picture of user: sidusferam

Oh but hope burned... Another rain poem, happy me. Beautiful imagery. Beautiful everything ❤️