The wet air swirls
Between warm rays of sun
Lines of rain begin to fall
Clouded thoughts change
I sit half submersed
Thin sheets of water form
Running rivulets combine
And beneath a translucent cloak
I stay
The sound of the downpour
Drumming across the hollows of my mind
Singular drops form upon chilled flesh
Glitter faintly in the failing light
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Published by falsepromisenouveau
Art, Poetry, and dreams of things to come. False Promises is something we all do whether we make them to pacify a young child or an anal associate. The worst are the ones we make to ourselves and label bucket or wish list.
With that said I hope to write stories populated by my memories, and the regrets that I would change. If only done in fiction or a dream, I tried.
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False Promises Nouveau 