i remarked that the sound of rain pitter-pattering was pleasing to the ears.

as the minute hand made a full turn, the rain started pelting against your windows instead and the skies howled. how metaphorically convenient. you would've thought that the weather planned for the brutality of that cold, vicious night.

sandwiched between the velvet sheets and fluffy pillows, i was reminded that tears were salty.

and warm. 
a searing, blistering kind of heat.

the way betrayal tasted.

(written september 2017)