When the rain comes, I stare out at it and wish you were
here, and I wonder what it might like to be with you out there, where old
leaves litter the ground and new leaves just begin, buds not quite able to
contain the downpour full leaves in a more plush season might better contain,
and I wonder what it might feel like to lay you down, both of us naked and
drenched, and have my way with you, filling p each deep crevice as the rain
drips off our lips and hips, our hair drowned, our bodies splattered, each
tender embrace giving warmth to each other against the still child aftermath of
this early spring. What might it feel like to smear my wet body against yours,
to kiss wet lips, to press wet hips, to drink an ambrosia only nature can
provide, I stare out at the rain and shudder just thinking about it.
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