Rain...

Balcony. Late. Doll. Dark. Drunk. Angel. Rain....

Failed cigarettes tossed.

Against the stucco wall, in the pouring rain, he pressed his mouth against mine, hard, reflex and desire, helpless and he tasted like rum and sweet cold rain. I gave in so easily, so eagerly. He murmured something that I didn't hear and yet my knees weakened as his mouth passed by my ear, on his way to kissing the rivulets of water that flowed down the curve of my neck. He followed their trail down and I released an unintentional moan. I don't recall how or why, we returned to the interior and toweled off briefly before collapsing onto the couch, our stride barely broken, we fell back into each other. The chemistry was thick and made doing anything else impossible. 3:30am the rain had ended. Our paths, different directions. Parting words were spoken. The door locked and lights turned out.

I can still taste the rain-kisses. I can still feel him so close, pressed against me. He left his impression on my body - that now feels cavernous, lacking, where last night it felt electric and hungry. I feel his hands tangled in my wet hair. I don't know where my hands were and I don't know where they weren't. He didn't complain. Neither did I.

Finally, after so long but really not so long ago. I feel. My body is alive and aware. While winter approaches, yet spring begins. And it is wonderful and worth whatever it may cost....