rain-y rain pitter patters around us w/ the rigor of the wave’s stormy crash.
she cocks her head, rounded blushed cheeks, curled dyed pout,
and i’m drenched, dreaded hair curled into seaweed fits,
foggy glasses and a slippery expression.
i want to bring her into my home.

we curl into a newly built sandcastle,
kissing clavicles,
breaths as sweet as rain,

the world scramble comes out (neither new or old, true or not)
and she whispers in my ear,
with the melody of a child’s seashell confession,

“you are okay.”