posts from the smell of rain


journalthey were undersea {comments closed}

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they had met during a night made of cold wind, unmatched socks, cherry lollipops, and possibly too many monkey glands.

it might have been the smudged glitters around her eyes. or the fact that they had the same front teeth.
but that night, they kissed. they stopped breathing. they screamed; at times with reasons, most of the time without.

a storm. pouring rain. to the eye, they were just sat on the watered down pavement. but details as such should be forgotten.
they knew they were undersea; submerged, deep. running away from surprises and ignoring alarms.

after all, there was a storm in progress.

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journalshe saw {3}

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november. somehow, you’re never given the credit for the smell of rain, the fallen leaves, and the cinnamon coffee lattes. you should be.

one month. one hundred words a day; her words. as a thank you for how beautiful you are.

let’s call this little project the smell of rain. for now. for only excuse the fact that it’s my favourite. ever.

that day, she woke up to a cold room; a cold empty room. with a bottle of wine and an ashtray – bursting with what once were the cigarettes he liked -, as the only evidence that it wasn’t always so cold in this house.

it all felt like a dream. one that, no matter how hard you try, can’t be remembered. she was there, sat on a train and looking through the window.

and as the hours turned into seconds, it happened. she saw.

she saw how pointless her attempt at remembering something that can only be felt was.

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