I entered the monsoon in a tanktop, a pair of jeans and flip flops. I returned unveiled and coated with a fresh gloss of warm tears, where Lady Nature's fingertips would fall to my skin and prick at every sensing nerve. The greatest form of accupuncture and I slowly made my way through the yard. It was only six o' clock on a May evening, but the world was gray and soft. The clouds like translucent lace, provided  a mournful mirth and the heat had lifted.

 

 The summer rain had carried an allergenic reaction, for I no longer appeared the person I had been for the past year. My hair and cloak were surely drenched, but inside my sheild was faux. It did not but cave in collapsing my innerds rather  it dissipated by such pure solution. My head became enterprising and my heart bold. Sensations flooded by memories were transparent and I could've slept a thousand years before this, but nothing made me more willing to dream.

 

I wanted, but had no need for your arms around me. Your spirit blew back my hair even though my face would surely become drenched. I wanted to be held as my sorrows be lifted making way for personal passion to flood the main organ of my cardiovascular system. Instead nothing but blood ran through my veins, and spirits through my head.

 

My lifeless body was lifted by the rain and I blew along the ground a feather.