I Can Whisper Softly Into the Wind

I'll write your name in the clouds; the rain will set impressions upon your skin, whispering nonsense obesessities:
"I need you..."

It was slightly creepy, you skin melting to form my words from the impression of the rain, but if you look at it from a different view, it's still a quite delicate bit of beauty.

Cratered, the impressions set in your cells, almost boiling them to a melting point (often of which they call a fiery desire). Each new droplet of rain cries a lullaby of our hearts before they evaporate into an air so thin with the smoke from evaporation, you can barely breathe.

They whisper nonchalantly: "Trust me..." as you dare to break dawn before their very being. "It's not as scary as you think, being alone with these burning atoms," the wind glazed past our ears. I couldn't believe it, for the stars had told me differently. So, we brushed off what the wind glanced at us, as he swept the droplets of rain off their feet that hadn't even touched the ground yet.

It grew harsher, the billowing of the wind, and the clouds swept past our bodies, engulfing too much, even our thoughts - yet it was so beautiful.

Though night had crept in without so much as an introduction, we ignored it as the wind melted my thoughts harsher into your skin.

I almost felt bad for you, the scars it would leave.

Then I remembered the likeliness of how much you cared when the wind burned my skin. I felt the fiery air around me, and I remembered.

I almost felt bad for you, the scars it would leave.