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Description
"The rain runs down my face in thin and dripping patterns, making its way to the tip of my nose and the crevices of my lips. I taste it in all its sweet and mocking tenderness and am immediately put at ease, my tongue lightly skimming the perimeter of my mouth. I feel drops navigating through a mess of black hair to overtake the recessess of my scalp. They glide down to the base of my neck, hanging slightly before falling into the fabric of my t-shirt. My body is completely overwhelmed by a flood of warm and clinging wetness. I look down as my feet tread through the shallow puddles that have begun to accumulate upon the road. With each step a new circle of ripples is created, the apperance of which is made all the more lovely by the ever falling splashes of tiny raindrops. I can feel the water seep through the souls of my shoes and up between my toes like I am walking on wet spunges. I focus all of my thoughts to the pouring rain, studying the sound- the rhythm- with every fiber of my mind. My heart beats softly at each splatter in the vain and clever attempt of composing a song fit for such a wonder as this.

Though I am encompased- mind and body- by the rain, a sheer sense of loneliness manages to slip into the palms of my hands, forcing me to realize their empty state. I cross my arms and hold tight to the sides of my body as to keep myself from being washed away into a puddle of nothingness. Is that a tear whelling in the corner of my eye? It falls but is immediately lost within the tangle of streaming raindrops. Maybe that's what rain is: a web of lonely hearts and empty hands falling away from the rest of the body like tears.

I do not know how long I walk. The sky turns from gray to black, stars dotting my view. A pale moonlight is playing in shadows upon the spattering puddles, which have grown immensly as to now cover most of the road. I listen to the sound of water weaving through gutters, falling into grated pits beside the curb. Suddenly, there is a sound of soft footsteps behind me. My eyes widen and my heart thuds as I stop and force myself to turn. It is dark, but the moon lights his face in such a way that at first glimpse I am able to take in a vague sense of what strongly resembles gentleness and love. He smiles.

I watch his sillhouette drift towards me like a mirage. Once he is within but an arms reach he holds out his hand, hesitance surronding each movement, his face broken by the lines of rain. I place my empty hand in his, feeling the touch of wet skin upon my own. Our fingers intertwine; he pulls me closer until we are merely inches apart. My heart is beating faster and faster each second, and I feel the faint sense of anxiety that so often accompanies anticipation. Our bodies find their way to each other, wet and clinging shirts now clinging to each another in a desperate attempt to become one. I slowly lift my chin until our eyes meet in a searching gaze. Their is a mix and jumble of emotions written in his eyes, on his face. Curiousity. Fascination. Longing. Sincereity. Belief. Love. My hand reaches to push a tuff of dripping hair behind his ear and then glides down his forehead to trace his eyes, his nose, the curve of his jaw, his lips. He smiles beneath my touch and gently kisses my fingertips, bringing his own hand up to take mine once more. The anticipation is gathering within my heart. The butterflies have been set lose within my stomach and are dancing in whirls and swoopes. I can feel his heartbeat, fast and stronge, beneath my unheld and wandering hand. I open my mouth and breathe in the sweet scent of rain and desire, standing on my tip-toes. His head tilts slightly and we are so close our noses brush against one another. Anticipation. Our lips draw nearer. Anticipation. I close my eyes and wrap my arms tight around his soaking body. Our lips meet. The touch is soft and comforting. It is beyond words. It is tame and innocent, wild and wandering. It is tender, throbbing. Incredible, magnificent, astonishing, beautiful. My lips curve up and I feel his do the same. We stand there, lips pressed together, smiling and holding on to one another in the pooring rain."

She comes over to me at my desk and holds the tattered and pencil-marked paper up, smiling. "Who is this about?"

I smile back, a little embarassed that she has found one of my cheesy, hopelessly romantic fantasies. "I'll let you know when I meet him."

Description
"The rain runs down my face in thin and dripping patterns, making its way to the tip of my nose and the crevices of my lips. I taste it in all its sweet and mocking tenderness and am immediately put at ease, my tongue lightly skimming the perimeter of my mouth. I feel drops navigating through a mess of black hair to overtake the recessess of my scalp. They glide down to the base of my neck, hanging slightly before falling into the fabric of my t-shirt. My body is completely overwhelmed by a flood of warm and clinging wetness. I look down as my feet tread through the shallow puddles that have begun to accumulate upon the road. With each step a new circle of ripples is created, the apperance of which is made all the more lovely by the ever falling splashes of tiny raindrops. I can feel the water seep through the souls of my shoes and up between my toes like I am walking on wet spunges. I focus all of my thoughts to the pouring rain, studying the sound- the rhythm- with every fiber of my mind. My heart beats softly at each splatter in the vain and clever attempt of composing a song fit for such a wonder as this.

Though I am encompased- mind and body- by the rain, a sheer sense of loneliness manages to slip into the palms of my hands, forcing me to realize their empty state. I cross my arms and hold tight to the sides of my body as to keep myself from being washed away into a puddle of nothingness. Is that a tear whelling in the corner of my eye? It falls but is immediately lost within the tangle of streaming raindrops. Maybe that's what rain is: a web of lonely hearts and empty hands falling away from the rest of the body like tears.

I do not know how long I walk. The sky turns from gray to black, stars dotting my view. A pale moonlight is playing in shadows upon the spattering puddles, which have grown immensly as to now cover most of the road. I listen to the sound of water weaving through gutters, falling into grated pits beside the curb. Suddenly, there is a sound of soft footsteps behind me. My eyes widen and my heart thuds as I stop and force myself to turn. It is dark, but the moon lights his face in such a way that at first glimpse I am able to take in a vague sense of what strongly resembles gentleness and love. He smiles.

I watch his sillhouette drift towards me like a mirage. Once he is within but an arms reach he holds out his hand, hesitance surronding each movement, his face broken by the lines of rain. I place my empty hand in his, feeling the touch of wet skin upon my own. Our fingers intertwine; he pulls me closer until we are merely inches apart. My heart is beating faster and faster each second, and I feel the faint sense of anxiety that so often accompanies anticipation. Our bodies find their way to each other, wet and clinging shirts now clinging to each another in a desperate attempt to become one. I slowly lift my chin until our eyes meet in a searching gaze. Their is a mix and jumble of emotions written in his eyes, on his face. Curiousity. Fascination. Longing. Sincereity. Belief. Love. My hand reaches to push a tuff of dripping hair behind his ear and then glides down his forehead to trace his eyes, his nose, the curve of his jaw, his lips. He smiles beneath my touch and gently kisses my fingertips, bringing his own hand up to take mine once more. The anticipation is gathering within my heart. The butterflies have been set lose within my stomach and are dancing in whirls and swoopes. I can feel his heartbeat, fast and stronge, beneath my unheld and wandering hand. I open my mouth and breathe in the sweet scent of rain and desire, standing on my tip-toes. His head tilts slightly and we are so close our noses brush against one another. Anticipation. Our lips draw nearer. Anticipation. I close my eyes and wrap my arms tight around his soaking body. Our lips meet. The touch is soft and comforting. It is beyond words. It is tame and innocent, wild and wandering. It is tender, throbbing. Incredible, magnificent, astonishing, beautiful. My lips curve up and I feel his do the same. We stand there, lips pressed together, smiling and holding on to one another in the pooring rain."

She comes over to me at my desk and holds the tattered and pencil-marked paper up, smiling. "Who is this about?"

I smile back, a little embarassed that she has found one of my cheesy, hopelessly romantic fantasies. "I'll let you know when I meet him."