Death

There she stood in the rain,
quietly murmuring words that no one else could hear but herself.

It was her bubble,
the quiet roads gently pattering with the fall of rain,
the motion and smell of the wind brushing her face
and carrying small twigs along the ground.

This was her home,
near and dear.

She looked up into the darkening sky,
droplets now encasing her face and absorbing into her hair.

This was bliss.
This was joy.
This was what it felt to be truly alone yet in love.

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