• sharp needles
    melt on my bitter skin
    a mist surrounds me

    the sweet scent of wet asphalt wafts trough the air
    trees draped in a green moss
    some call it masochism

    to stand in a camisole
    soaking up the rain
    but the water is my catharsis

    the pleasure that brings me my most absolute joy
    I hurry inside
    chilled to the bone