The walk to the bed was one that would
be told of in future rains.
I felt the drops watching me
through the glass
as blood-born questions
felt for warmth.
The outside was more.
Liquid flashing up and catching my skin.
I felt more from it
than from what was inside.
Divide and taken.
I rode on and lifted my head.
I like the feel of water on my neck.
It goes where it needs to
and I am fine with it.
So long after,
yet I can draw it up when I need to.
I can make it as real as it was.
The water on my back tells a different story.
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