Prose Poem

I wrote this, for an asignment, and then decided to use it for another assignment. Now I’m going to share it here, maybe later I’ll share the complete document. Maybe.

I smell the rain coming down, on the cars, on the trees, on the streets. Everything is wet. Everything looks wet. And dark. This could be from my vision, blurred from the water running down my head, as if it were tears, but no, they are not tears, the tears probably came later, but perhaps they didn’t. The rain tastes heavy. Dirty. This isn’t a clean warm summer shower. This is cold fall rain. It’s dark. I can’t see you anymore, so perhaps I should go back inside, but instead, I stay longer, letting the rain soak into me further, because, you might decide to come back.


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