the sweet mist of the rain,
burned on her face like acid,
but she kept it to the clouds,
while others duck and run from their ordinary humidity.

and she does nothing,
wishing the rain really was acid,
but she can't be sure,
because everything feels so cruel,
and she would scream but the sound is anchored in her feet.

the sweet scent of flowers is bitter,
in her unforgiving brain reminding her of promises,
she'll never know again,
and holding onto forever feels like,
holding onto fire,
and its

sl-

----ipp

ing-

away.