Photo by Kristina Tripkovic on Unsplash

I could be

You’re like the rain
in August.
Sweet petrichor
swirls in sweltering air.
When breathing
is like drinking
I gulp you
down,
down,
and look up for more
tip-tap, tip-tap
fingertip drops upon
my face,
bending me
as if I were nothing
but a leaf.
You plummet
with abandon.
I could drown
in you.
Teach me to fall
like you
and I could be your rain.