The lake was the color of red wine,
and the earth smells of rain.
My skin was tattooed with that smell.
When I walked through the door, you
kissed my skin, and told me you loved the smell
of rain, that you could never leave what you love.
I walked through the garden, an unfamiliar place
within this concrete jungle. I walked through the door,
you kissed my skin, and told me you could never get
used to the smell of flowers. I stood outside in the rain.
Last night, I saw you with her in the garden.
Surrounded by flowers, you kissed her skin.
You got used to the smell.
You never even liked the smell of rain.