Cleansing.

The sky kissed me twice yesterday, good morning and good day.  Once, upon waking, with a ray of light or love streaming in through dusty glass.  And again, while walking, with a single raindrop like a pinprick on my lower lip.  It was a warning, as if to say, “Hurry inside.  My tears are for your world.  Not for you.”

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Cleansing.

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