Petrichor.
The smell of rain touching the streets.
I stood there, watching the last drops of rain
mingle with my tears.
Soon the sun would shine again.
It would never rain as long
as it would take to heal my heart.
YOU ARE READING
THE SWEET TASTE OF PAIN
PoetryThe Sweet Taste of Pain About the depths of the human psyche to recognize it, you have to give it a face and accept the awfulness. For him, the person I will always love.
