Rainy days are about as good as any,
It's a little gray and dreary,
But I love the sound of trickling drops.

She does too,

I love the rain,
When I'm with you.

I look at the sun
And ask for his light
He stares on, silent
And then my eyes hurt
And then I look away
And I still don't know
What I am to do

The rain falls on me
She asks who I am
And why I lie here
But I cannot say
And I cannot move
So she can do naught
But drench me anew

We were chasing shelter when the sky opened up and wept for us amidst our adrenaline rush.
I found wetted hair a marvel,
As mascara ran like rivers,
And your eyes still resembled round oceans that I would lose myself in.

Street lamps, their orange incandescence resembling fires upon the puddles,
Created bokeh bubbles that popped with a splash,
Rippling the reflection.
Yet, I saw you like a newborn catching sight for the first time,
A vision of divine beauty in the neon nightlife.

We shivered and laughed,
Our kisses sealing the silence that crept in.
Music played through cracked apartment windows,
Casting a pale light upon us.
I took your hands and we danced within the tears of broken clouds,
A waltz made for those singing in the rain.

Heavy purple clouds weep over the city,
Followed by an occasional thunderous boom
Rain gathers in quiet puddles

Petrichor fills the air
Everything takes on a moistened shine
And the breeze becomes a chill

A jagged streak of light divides the sky
Quicker than the blink of an eye
Revealing a sky of constant change

Individual
Drops of rain syringe the tips
Of long pine needles.

The city is dead
Like thunder shouting into
The infinite blue.

I wish I could quit thinking about norms,
There’s a rainbow after all storms.
The ones in our minds too I guess,
I just wish I would think about this less.

Because really, everything is unfair,
So who cares about my short hair?
And of course it’ll grow back,
Yet it forever leaves a crack.

A crack in my heart and my head,
I can’t even believe what I’ve said.
They want the hair to be long,
All I feel is just, that this is wrong.

I want the red not the blue key,
I don’t think that’s hard to see.
So it won’t be cut once again,
But will that be the rainbow or the rain?

'Cause I shall look in the mirror,
That won’t make anything clearer.
And I will feel sad looking there,
My hair will be too long to bear.

I will look at photos of me now,
I’ll probably wonder why and how.
Might say that it was a mistake,
They’ll never see if it’s true or fake.