hear the rain radiating from rocks sub rosa.
we percolate unspoken words, unwritten truths,
condensed particles of what could be
rolling off intangibles, but not the tongue
made of roses. we are playing the rain
over susceptible skin and i am fading
through your stomata. enfold me in your petals
before i evaporate away from you.
i am transpiring through leaf-lined avenues
to weight the air with leaden cloud ready to weep
at the pressure of lips, the press of hands enfolded.
your slightest breath hints at a heat wave;
i can't handle your humidity. everything you
are to me is soaking through my bones and
i am helplessly, hopelessly wanting.














Comments
"Petrichor (from Greek petros, "stone" + ichor) is the name of the scent of rain on dry earth."
that is the best scent in the world. well done to the greeks for having a word to describe it.
I love it, too. They came up with such a pretty word for it.
omg. *melts* absolutely gorgeous metaphor.
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What if I'm the kindest demon? Something you may not believe in.
Beautifully luscious. The words seem to roll off the tongue. Very sensual and full of sense imagery.
'hands enfolded' mirrors the picture of leaves and petals.
A really successful collaboration.
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THIS IS THE GATE OF HEAVEN. ENTER YE ALL BY THIS DOOR. (This door is kept locked because of the draught - please use side door.)
Thank you so much, from both of us.
--
What if I'm the kindest demon? Something you may not believe in.
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