a yearning for the rain.

5 Mar

I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence, but whenever I hear you play the piano, raindrops seem to fall from the sky.
The sad melody that’s played through someone’s fingers hugs the gray air like the sad cry of a mourning dove, and monsoon season begins in my heart.
Please, my sweet, don’t be sad, I want to love your hurt away.

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