The clouds roll in, thundering

like that dump trunk moving noisily through your neighborhood

far too early in the morning


They cry tears

and it hits

as soft mist on your face

each drop too cold for a single point of skin


You shiver

even though it’s hot out


you stare out into the grey

a perfect day for books and things

but you’re not reading

you’re at the window looking out


The dump truck didn’t wake you

neither did your alarm

which is going off now

a song

his song

and just like every love story

this one involves your tears


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