Rain makes me sad.
It reminds me of afternoon drizzles by the window; when droplets of creativity played in puddles in the rigorous Math copy.
When every bit of lecherous mud was avoided with trepidation. Sometimes unsuccessfully.
The waterlogged moments of love. Unspoken yet immortalized in words.
The congested umbrellas in shuttle taxis gasping under strangers' sweat and rain water. Or perhaps, they were crying.
The heart is, but a mausoleum of memories. Rain washes down its strong walls to reveal the undergrowth within.
I hate rains.
It reminds me of afternoon drizzles by the window; when droplets of creativity played in puddles in the rigorous Math copy.
When every bit of lecherous mud was avoided with trepidation. Sometimes unsuccessfully.
The waterlogged moments of love. Unspoken yet immortalized in words.
The congested umbrellas in shuttle taxis gasping under strangers' sweat and rain water. Or perhaps, they were crying.
The heart is, but a mausoleum of memories. Rain washes down its strong walls to reveal the undergrowth within.
I hate rains.
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