The raindrops cling on to window-sills and door-frames, like reluctant lovers when it's time to go. A reluctant me and a reluctant you. Holding on, pulling, inhaling. Storing up the sight and scent and taste of each other till the next time we meet. Allowing our lips to brush once more, maybe twice more. How do I stop myself from touching your face, your hair, your arms? How do I tear my gaze from yours? Tear. Like ripping, the brutal sound of separation. Later, we can sew it back, good as new. But what of now? Now. Now. Now. I want you now. I don't want to let go. I want to be closer. Bodies pressed together. Closer. Whispering into your mouth. Closer.
The drops fall- running down the length of the window, like my tongue- running down the length of you. Time ticks by, as do our hearts. My cold hands are glues to your warm skin, and either you cool down or I heat up, but what I know for sure is that we now feel One. But the clock keeps going, faster and faster, and you tear yourself from my hold. Tear. Like ripping, the brutal sound of separation. Sticks and stones can break my bones, but true love can rip souls. It can also heal them, you remind me, sew them back, good as new.