Rain brought a melancholy.
Just like that music, he’d said,
laying together in sheets still warm –
blissful buffer against outside;
knowledge that something so right
could be so wrong
She watched the rain now,
longed for his arms to shield her
against a shame
papers would have a field day with;
against a guilt
that she didn’t care, and never would.
Tonight they’d listen
to that music,
to this rain