leftover rain
Today's rain is like a forgotten thing, there's no intention to it. It doesn't fall so much as hover, a small noise in the air, coming to its last conclusion against the window, my glasses, the fond exposure of my arms.
Today's rain is like a forgotten thing, there's no intention to it. It doesn't fall so much as hover, a small noise in the air, coming to its last conclusion against the window, my glasses, the fond exposure of my arms.
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