i. When It Rains

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Paramore โ€“ When It Rains

I never saw it coming.”

It was raining when you came. I was 18, I was soaked in the rain and you were unconscious, lying on the grass next to the huge building just two blocks away from home. I took you in, shouting to my dad and mom, telling them there was a tall, lanky guy curled up in the rain.

It was raining when I knew I liked you. I was half-drunk, looking at you through hazy eyes, wondering whether it would be nice to be in your arms, wondering what it would feel to kiss your lips. I knew I liked you and I ran out to the rain, hoping it would take me out of my crazy thoughts, but you joined me and I marveled at the way the raindrops fell on your hair, on your face, on you. Right there I knew, I did fucking liked you.

It was raining when I realized I loved you. I was in the shadows, watching you play your guitar, sitting by the tree trunk, shading yourself from the raindrops that were starting to pour heavier and heavier. I felt myself go undone when I heard you sing, your voice matching the rain’s calm yet devastating approach. Your voice assaulted my ears in a slow, intense and penetrating manner. The way a drizzle becomes a downpour. I was in love with you, and then suddenly I was crazy for you.

It was raining when I thought you were happy with me. We were holding each other’s hands, feeling the slight drizzle and the angry wind whip past our face in the docks. You looked at me with your blue eyes and I thought I saw love in them.

Will you always find an escape?”

It was raining when you ran away. I was angry, making you realize that you were worthy of love, that you deserve love. I thought it was going to be the perfect night. The rain soaked my favorite dress and you ran away in your thrift shop slacks and suit.

Why can’t you stay just long enough to explain?”

It was raining when I found you, I was 19, at the same spot, two blocks away from home and you were lying in the same space I saw you a year before. I approached you, already crying at how helpless you looked, “You know you can take your time. You can take my time. I’ll wait for you to be ready.”

You didn’t respond. I touched your cold, wet body and I realized you wouldn’t answer me. You won’t.

I love the rain. Because when it rains, I remember you. I see you. When it rains, you’re alive. In my heart, you are the rain. The single reminder that you were here and that you still are.


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