my rain,
my lovely rain.
i have stood here for
all time and my
legs have never faltered.
my blood is cold and warm,
and i peak my head out of the window
when the moon is full,
and tell her about the things
about the people i keep in the centre of my chest
and the in the curve of my hips.
i walk in the rain,
and some part of me wants
my hair to get wet.
my lovely rain,
i listen to songs
about flowers in winter.
november i miss
you,
and my lungs ache sometimes.
i hold in my back,
in my very last
intercostal spaces,
my favourite people
and my favourite
breaths and
my favourite moments.
my back hurts
and the pain lulls me to sleep
to the overture of rain.
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