Petrichor

We lay together

Listening to the rain

Through my window,

Half-cracked to let the

Air in after we

Made my room

So

Warm

I breathe her in,

Nestle my face against

Her hair, so artistically

Messed, a painting with

Brush strokes intentional,

Wrapped around and

Tangled into

Each

Other

I don't want her to go,

And so I reach for her

(and she's finally there!)

I kiss her, soft then hard,

Harder

I don't ever want

To let her go

But eventually I do

(after we're both left shaking,

Wondering at

the Electricity generated

From our bodies,

Entangled).

She says I'm something else,

And I don't know

What that is,

But I'm learning.

She sees me,

And that shakes me:

I'm so used to

Being invisible,

Nothing but

an occasionally

useful tool.

She says she's always

Seen me,

And I can't for

The life of me

Understand why this Goddess

Would bother

With a strange, confused creature

Like me,

But I trust her

And her

Mystic mind, which works

In such mysterious ways

And I am untangling her

Words, so well-thought

As they unravel

To me.

How is this so easy?

The knot in my

Stomach (thought permanent)

Loosens as

I tell her things

I've always been

Afraid to say–

Assuming I

Didn't matter,

My side-character status

Lifted, I'm

Brought sudden and vibrant

To center-stage.

She shines the spotlights

Of her steady eyes

On me, and

On all the shortcomings

Of those who came before

And I'm sure…

So finally, I am sure.

I walk her to

Her car, my feet slap bare against

Wet concrete.

She says she loves the

Smell of rain,

And I tell her

It's called ‘petrichor.’

She smiles and

Kisses me and

I would do anything

For her, but all I can

Do in the moment is

Kiss her back,

Open her door,

Close behind and

Let her go home…

Yet the smell of her

Lingers

As I lay

Listening to the

Rain.