water-soaked, our boots, and the little places left by them in the muddy earth. your gaze troubled, but, not so much as it had been. your thoughts would come easier now as there are no letters to tumble over when the droplets are filling, enclosing you
. you had told me the words seemed to fall clumsily from your head and that you didn't know how to filter through them afterwards, to figure out where each was meant to be.
your fingers had gripped the pen so tightly, i could see tension in the tired little joints of your hand. i had leaned in, down to your sitting form, slid my fingers along the soft curve of your ear and as my lips were close enough then for you to hear, to really hear
.. i whispered, come and dance with me in the rain.
you tilted your head slightly, causing my lips to brush across your skin, and you smiled at the moist flesh, at the contact
.. you were out there in the cool wet evening long before we even found our boots, even before you let the pen roll slowly from your fingertips
you slipped a little, and though i am sure, i know that you could have found footing so easily, you let yourself fall
. i knelt next to you and together we layed back and stared up until the rain forced our eyes closed
. we were the only still matter save the ground beneath us (even it seemed to shift slightly, so thoroughly saturated), and we would not move for quite some time
. our thoughts swirled about inside of our still heads, dancing in and around eachother. we let our fingers slide together, seperated only slightly by the bits of water'y earth that would cradle us until the skywater