The rain softens my
heart of stone and turns my thoughts
to the arms of men.
I'm not a romantic. I will never be a romantic. But, on rainy days, as I curl up in my frigid dorm room, dressed in too many layers to keep myself warm, sometimes I wish there was a guy to cuddle with. Sometimes I have someone particular in mind. I know I do today. And he's so perfect in every way, but it just won't work out for so many reasons. It's not a sad thing, just a melancholy feeling that comes knocking on my door sometimes in the cold and the dark, in the rain and the night. It's the driving force that keeps me writing; that spark in my gut that makes me remember that I'm alive, and that my heart is not fully dead within me.