things

things that remind me of you & the small things you do

is it
standing in the rain, holding a black umbrella
that’s alike to texting you, from the comfort of my bed.
or was it
staring out of the window, into the darkness of the storm.
the soft words you spoke, wrapping my head.
the touch of your cold hands, that you use to write \\ extravagant fortresses of sweet, sweet rambling.
the touch of cold stone under my neck, the blossom of blood spreading from it.