He said blue days are here

and all I can think of is blue eyes tracing blue lines with heads tilting backwards to kiss blue boys

He dosn't like the rain as much as me, doesn't see the symmetry

to our souls, falling down down down

like when we get sad, we get mad and hears voices and birds

Dripping rain isn't needle pricks to me like it is to him.

it's much more

like something raised up,

like god is here

god is here