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Writer's pictureEva Chacole

Raindance

Your heavy thumping heart fuels these light footsteps, loud rhythmic beats where bass blends with fury, and a bedroom blends with the night.

Four walls holding together this private stage where your towel meets the floor, slipping along with all your inhibitions

as the posters spectate upon this euphoric dance.

One by one, raindrops splatter around your feet, leaping gracefully from your starry brown eyes and your soft brown cheeks glisten under purple neon lights. You savour this salty elixir, melancholy and bliss intermixed until you cannot tell the difference. And through a hazy wet gaze, you begin to adore the figure in the mirror the more often you see her, since only you know what really lies behind the silhouette.

Some nights there’s no reason for the rain, but it waters your plants regardless reinforcing your sacred wilderness and cleansing your body anew.

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