Non-Erotic PoetryGrey SkiesGrey skies
Rain drops tickle
Hot skin
Water trickles
Music drains down the gutter
Into dirty puddles
As I long for the days
When shards of heavy waters
Pounded into my pores
Blinding me
Soaking me to the core
I could crane my neck
And swallow them whole
Run outside
Hear the thunder roar
Laugh at life
Sweaty and sore
But not now
Just left craving more
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