Poetry

Hello... it's raining, huh?
It has always rained, nothing new,
even when we smiled at each other, naked in bed,
passion tangled in the sheets,
while insecurity lay hidden beneath the pillows.
We never noticed, but inside us, it was raining—
not a summer storm,
but winter’s tears beneath a leaden sky,
promising endless, rain-soaked days.

And now our love is sick,
weary, feverish, chilled,
and all it takes is a hello—
and silence—to wound us.
And perhaps love doesn’t die in tempests,
but in slow rains no one bothers to dry.

Hello... it's raining, huh?
It has always rained, nothing new,
even when we smiled at each other, naked in bed,
passion tangled in the sheets,
while insecurity lay hidden beneath the pillows.
We never noticed, but inside us, it was raining—
not a summer storm,
but winter’s tears beneath a leaden sky,
promising endless, rain-soaked days.

And now our love is sick,
weary, feverish, chilled,
and all it takes is a hello—
and silence—to wound us.
And perhaps love doesn’t die in tempests,
but in slow rains no one bothers to dry.

https://objkt.com/tokens/KT1XjSqpMHVUZrJqX1pzWBQvyDuiHYLcbTfd/20