Love Letters Written in Rain

Something shifts in the air; 
love arrives messy as birth,  
each thought a startled bird  
demanding flesh.

Against the glass, my pulse  
spells secrets in steam,  
syllables bleeding downward  
in beautiful chaos.

The window weeps my words  
into abstract rivers,  
love drowning in its own  
desperate honesty.

When you arrive, I am  
already smoke, but the mirror  
holds my ghost-signature  
and you taste my name.

What I wrote roots in you  
like wildflowers in concrete;  
love impossible, untamed,  
utterly alive.