And the rain was too romantic to make me forget the way you made me feel. It was impossible for me not to think about the way you kissed me and said forever. It was knowing that I was sinning and was still falling.
The rains bring with it that delicacy in which I drown in the sadness of La Plata on a Sunday morning. It brings with it the reminder that you didn’t hold my hand and I got tired of jumping too many times.
It left me with the melancholy, of knowing your essence, of laughing with you. And being strangers for five minutes while talking about the stars for a bit.
T.A.
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