Warmest Cold

His hair was greasy as the sun hits him. On the morning, he woke up with scars in his eyes. The rain came down as if she knew he’s about to cry.

I put my arms around him. I placed my left palm on his chest. It was warm. But he didn’t know it.

I kissed his neck. Once. Twice.

The feelings transferred from my whole body. Through the air, disguised in the sound of water drops, across the cold room. Veins.

I breathe. My beings only knew.

Does he breathe it?

His hair was no longer greasy as the sun hits him. For gone is my sun, and forever his rain will remain.

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