Do You Remember? (In the Pouring Rain)

Do you remember...?
You took me for a walk that fateful April day, to this meadow strewn in flowers at the feet of the birch grove. You picked a daisy and braided it into my hair and laughed as it kept falling out. Then we looked at each other, I stared into your beautiful brown eyes and their warmth enchanted me so much I couldn't resist when you placed a gentle kiss on my lips. Soon, innocence turned to passion and you pushed me back on the grass, your tongue brushing against my neck, your breath whispering sweet words into my ear, and the shudder pierced me through like one those thunders growling far away. The storm was coming closer and closer, but you didn't care, you kept going until we were coming, too. We ran back home hiding from the streams of warm rain under your dark red shirt, stained with green in places where my shoulder blades had pushed it against the grass, and then we just stood on the balcony, watching the dance of lightnings around us. We quivered before the power of Nature as She showed off her thunders and we snuggled into each other tight, like becoming smaller could protect us from Her rage.

Do you remember...?
In the pouring rain you held me close and kissed my lips, and didn't stop even after my mother screamed in horror. All of them, both our families, stared at us, unable to turn their eyes away; and you forced them to watch us, forced them to see the love we had, forced them to understand it, all with a single, passionate kiss. My bright dress clung to my body and you covered me with your jacket while playfully peeking inside as I laughed and shouted at you to stop that. We told everyone we'd come back to the party once we'd have changed, but we didn't. Instead, we just stayed in bed and made love until the rain stopped and a double rainbow crossed the dawning sky.

Do you remember...?
That evening of tears, you told me you had met someone else. You said that you were letting go, that everything between us was over, that you didn't want me to speak to you again, and though I had felt it was all too good to be true, the drops pounding against the steel window ledge accompanied my sorrowful cries. I begged and yelped, but you just turned around and walked out, leaving me there in your black T-shirt, already dressed for mourning, bewailing that beautiful thing we used to have.


This is a small town. 
Now I see you on the streets, in the pouring rain, walking hand in hand with that black-haired, pretty girl of yours as I try to hide in the hood and pretend like I'm perfectly fine, like I moved on with my life and like I don't think about you every night while crying myself to sleep.
I guess you don't remember after all...