Senses

It is not that I look to blame
It is not that I can't see the rain.

It is not that I intend to dwell inside my Hell
It is not that I can't feel the rain.

It is not that I am left with all that is sour
It is not that I can't taste the rain.

It is not that I have nothing but silence
It is not that I can't hear the rain.

It is not that I am left with a scent that lingers
It is not that I can't smell the rain.

It is simply that you are my rain.

by CLAUDIA C MORADO

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Comments (1)

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