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My hands smell like petrichor
from the last time
it rained
and all I did was
pray, pray, pray
that the storm I allow in my heart
be kind enough to
let me name it love
because I refuse to let
anything else destroy me.

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there's a story in my pain,
it grows like the sky grows
in a child's painting.
i almost say "i love you"
to my pain
because everything i've loved
has found a way to leave me.

but do i let this pain go
or do i keep it until
this pain starts feeling
like love?

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