‹ Prequel: In the Month of May
One-Hundred Days
Day Ten: Under the Rain
Keep me under the rain, its cool calm droplets running in rivers across my skin. I will let the rain erase the memories that have flickered through my decaying mind since I was young. I will let the rain wash the dirt from the skin left by those filthy fingertips.
He is in the rain, his face reflected in each droplet collecting in pools formed by the places where my bones cave in on themselves. He rejected the ground when his heart stopped beating, and so he was buried in the ocean's waves, the whitecaps caressing his body as a mother would her child. He sank beneath the waves into the ocean's warmth, her outstretched arms welcoming him like a long lost son.
He and I stayed beneath the rain when the others ran for shelter. But he and I, we stood beneath the dark clouds, arms open and grins spread wide. We closed our eyes to the skies and let the rain drench us through to our dry thirsty bones.
We would stay under the rain, drinking through the pores of our skin the memories it laid down on us. We were always the only ones, with our wide smiles and closed eyes, and we were content with letting our bones become washed away with the rain.
He would always shudder under the rain, never running to hide among the others, even when lightning kissed his feet and thunder crashed against his skull. I would hold his hand, beneath the shelter of his form, and wait with him until he gave up on being washed away. As he gave up, I would become smaller and smaller, yet he never noticed, only seeing the comparison of our rain-soaked bones as his being less eroded.
That was all he ever wanted, to have the rain wash his bones away, have it kiss away his skin until it was detached from his bones. We would live under the rain, our lives slowly being cut at the seams by its constant drilling of our bones. We would live under the rain, eyes closed and mouths open, letting the cool calm seep its tranquility into our panicked hearts.
He is in the rain, the very thing that pulled him apart. He is in the rain, ripped at the seams into a million little pieces, clear and tranquil, being taken everywhere by wind and earth. He is in the rain, washing away my own bones so that they may join his in oblivion.
Keep me under the rain.
He is in the rain, his face reflected in each droplet collecting in pools formed by the places where my bones cave in on themselves. He rejected the ground when his heart stopped beating, and so he was buried in the ocean's waves, the whitecaps caressing his body as a mother would her child. He sank beneath the waves into the ocean's warmth, her outstretched arms welcoming him like a long lost son.
He and I stayed beneath the rain when the others ran for shelter. But he and I, we stood beneath the dark clouds, arms open and grins spread wide. We closed our eyes to the skies and let the rain drench us through to our dry thirsty bones.
We would stay under the rain, drinking through the pores of our skin the memories it laid down on us. We were always the only ones, with our wide smiles and closed eyes, and we were content with letting our bones become washed away with the rain.
He would always shudder under the rain, never running to hide among the others, even when lightning kissed his feet and thunder crashed against his skull. I would hold his hand, beneath the shelter of his form, and wait with him until he gave up on being washed away. As he gave up, I would become smaller and smaller, yet he never noticed, only seeing the comparison of our rain-soaked bones as his being less eroded.
That was all he ever wanted, to have the rain wash his bones away, have it kiss away his skin until it was detached from his bones. We would live under the rain, our lives slowly being cut at the seams by its constant drilling of our bones. We would live under the rain, eyes closed and mouths open, letting the cool calm seep its tranquility into our panicked hearts.
He is in the rain, the very thing that pulled him apart. He is in the rain, ripped at the seams into a million little pieces, clear and tranquil, being taken everywhere by wind and earth. He is in the rain, washing away my own bones so that they may join his in oblivion.
Keep me under the rain.