Rain, Rain Go Away
Tempest in a Teacup
Your smile is reminiscent of Summers lost and interpersonal, yet intentional, blood baths. Your eyes glitter like heated asphalt. Your eyes are only shutters to your soul. Your just a master at deceiving. Just a master at misleading. Your voice sounds like the gentle rain fall before a thunderstorm.
You feel like lightning.
Sometimes I think you’re really a China doll that Grandmother sent to me from Ireland. Maybe you have a key hidden in your back that lets you walk and talk with such perfection. Your skin is clean like a porcelain plate on the dining room table. Pre-painted make-up on your cheeks and your eyelashes are made from antelope fur. I am convinced that you taste like cherry pie.
You are a kiss in the rain from under the eave.
You have a watermelon smirk. Your fingernails are like pink plated beetle backs. You stick one nail in between your front teeth when you don’t know what to say. Which is funny, because you always have the right words. Your voice is like a string on a violin. Or the throat of a Morning Dove.
You are the sun between my rainfall.
You feel like lightning.
Sometimes I think you’re really a China doll that Grandmother sent to me from Ireland. Maybe you have a key hidden in your back that lets you walk and talk with such perfection. Your skin is clean like a porcelain plate on the dining room table. Pre-painted make-up on your cheeks and your eyelashes are made from antelope fur. I am convinced that you taste like cherry pie.
You are a kiss in the rain from under the eave.
You have a watermelon smirk. Your fingernails are like pink plated beetle backs. You stick one nail in between your front teeth when you don’t know what to say. Which is funny, because you always have the right words. Your voice is like a string on a violin. Or the throat of a Morning Dove.
You are the sun between my rainfall.
♠ ♠ ♠
I love you.