eight arms to hold you.

When rain falls after you have just opened your eyes in the morning, to hear it fall like a soft remembrance and clothe you in yesterdays and everything around you is in soft focus, covered in a haze when you gaze at the face beside you asleep and you almost cry, enfolded in the taste of that memory and the rainscent rising along the warmth of your bodies stirring and then you touch the face and it fades into a mirage and only the soft falling rain outside remains; and you; warm and alone and longing.

-o0o-

of all the five senses, scent is the fastest and hardest ride to remembering.

-o0o-

and in the meantime I'll write for myself again, an audience of one.

-o0o-

veruca salt.