The Rinse

At a point in my mental thrashing of you, I realized that the rain was pouring and that you were walking, caught up in it. 

I felt no sympathy. 

I silently praised the rain for drenching you. For turning your body as cold as my heart.

Yes, my warmth left me. But it didn’t go to you. And it has yet to return to me.

When you came back still happy as you always are, I wondered… 

Could I have used a rinse in the rain?

But the rain is no more. The sky silent and gray.

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