(no subject)
"I love the rain."
"Hmmm?"
"I love the rain."
"Why do you love the rain?"
"Because it makes things clean again."
He ran through the rain, at a steady pace, he had already punished himself by sprinting a good mile before his lungs were screaming for air and it had become a little ridiculous for a man his age to be running like that. So he continued on, past houses, shops, cars, people standing under bus shelters to get out of the rain. He hardly felt it, the thin little drops evaporating just as they hit what exposed skin there was.
"You can run all of Manhattan I bet."
"You bet."
"What are you running from?"
"You. I'm running from you."
"Come to bed, let me kiss you."
"No. I'll get it on you."
"Wash up, I want to hold you. I need to kiss you."
He showered and there was more water, nothing like the rain, something different, something warm and soothing. He wondered if the rain was as cleansing as she believed. She was always the romantic, the dreamer, the one who laughed and flirted with him even when he was in a foul mood. Who loved him when he gave her his shoulder, when he was at his worst. He enjoyed her everything and as a result he saw her in his dream.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes. I love you."
"Do you love me more then the rain?"
"More then the rain."
"Will you always love me?"
"Forever and a day."
"Never forget me."
"Never."
He could feel her arms, smell her scent as if it had never disappeared, and he found himself drowning the kisses and air burning his lungs as he struggled to keep himself afloat. The dreams were not always pleasant, they had become nightmares on more then one occasion. Not classic nightmares. Not die in your sleep and never wake up nightmares. But dreams that contained something so desperately needed and embedded in his soul that waking up was like losing her all over again.
"Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me."
"Where? Here."
"Yesss . . . Mmm."
He felt like drowning and after the initial fight, the initial struggle, he found himself giving up. His wrists bound, his lips occupied, his mind some where far, far away. Blissfully numb, dying as if it was something he was born to do.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes, I love you."
"More then the rain?"
"More then the rain."
"Never let me go. Promise."
"I promise."
"Hmmm?"
"I love the rain."
"Why do you love the rain?"
"Because it makes things clean again."
He ran through the rain, at a steady pace, he had already punished himself by sprinting a good mile before his lungs were screaming for air and it had become a little ridiculous for a man his age to be running like that. So he continued on, past houses, shops, cars, people standing under bus shelters to get out of the rain. He hardly felt it, the thin little drops evaporating just as they hit what exposed skin there was.
"You can run all of Manhattan I bet."
"You bet."
"What are you running from?"
"You. I'm running from you."
"Come to bed, let me kiss you."
"No. I'll get it on you."
"Wash up, I want to hold you. I need to kiss you."
He showered and there was more water, nothing like the rain, something different, something warm and soothing. He wondered if the rain was as cleansing as she believed. She was always the romantic, the dreamer, the one who laughed and flirted with him even when he was in a foul mood. Who loved him when he gave her his shoulder, when he was at his worst. He enjoyed her everything and as a result he saw her in his dream.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes. I love you."
"Do you love me more then the rain?"
"More then the rain."
"Will you always love me?"
"Forever and a day."
"Never forget me."
"Never."
He could feel her arms, smell her scent as if it had never disappeared, and he found himself drowning the kisses and air burning his lungs as he struggled to keep himself afloat. The dreams were not always pleasant, they had become nightmares on more then one occasion. Not classic nightmares. Not die in your sleep and never wake up nightmares. But dreams that contained something so desperately needed and embedded in his soul that waking up was like losing her all over again.
"Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me."
"Where? Here."
"Yesss . . . Mmm."
He felt like drowning and after the initial fight, the initial struggle, he found himself giving up. His wrists bound, his lips occupied, his mind some where far, far away. Blissfully numb, dying as if it was something he was born to do.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes, I love you."
"More then the rain?"
"More then the rain."
"Never let me go. Promise."
"I promise."