If I am the rain,
then you are the dust,
and I shall fall down onto you.
I'll show you love
as you've shown me lust,
though I receive no gratitude.
I listen; you speak.
Then I'll pour out my heart,
but it slips through your bone-dry fingers.
In the end, you and I
are worlds too far apart;
You don't love, but your scent always lingers.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoetryIn this allegorical tale of empathy and sociopathy, lonely spirits find one another, and an improbable relationship is formed between two creatures who seem as different as the dry dust is from rain.
