247//365 / by Rebecca Tillett

257//365
257//365

(247//365) I can't look at the sky and not think of you. I can't look at each and every single drop, every reflection of your eyes in the mirrors of the falling rain. I can't not think of you when the smells of the wet earth conquer my body like an invading army at the battle of I Love You More Than love, sweet on my tongue, the way you look at me and smile, the sun falling softly behind the shifting line of the horizon, every single second of pain you've shared and nursed me through always so patiently and all the scars and lines in your worn and beautiful skin. I can't not think of you when I think of war and softness and my savage rumbling heart trembling in the cold fall moisture. And I can't not think of you when it's grasped firmly in your hard tempestuous and tender hands, bloody and tired and surrendering contently to your advances.