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  • Writer's pictureErin

washed away by rain.

as thunder rumbles through

the city

I cling to any piece of you

I have left.

the bustling crowds make

their way down the sidewalk

as I'm lost in a daze.

how can such a busy city

feel so far away?

I'm in the heart of it,

yet nowhere all at once.

I'm unaware of my surroundings,

only focusing on trying to remember.

trying to remember your laugh,

your scent,

your hugs.

the only pieces of memories

I have left of you are photographs

and sweaters.

the sweater I'm wearing is yours,

but the rain from the storm will just

was away the only thing keeping

you alive to me.

when I finally make it home

tonight, your sweater won't smell

like you, instead it'll just smell damp.

and tomorrow my laundry

detergent will take over,

filling every thread of you.

and the only thing left

in my hands will be photographs,

ones that will fade with time.

and suddenly, I'll have to think

really hard to remember what it was

like before the rain washed you away.

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