The rain whispered as I made my way.
People running for shelter as I wandered. No one saw me though I walked among them. Every drop a baptism into this life from the one where you existed. And as I meander, my skin gets colder And the warmth of your final touch is carried away by the wind.
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AuthorAudrie is a writer and editor living in Illinois. She is a fan of all things horror and pop culture. Archives
February 2021
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