"There will be a rainbow after the rain."
People love that saying.
They love how after the gloomy skies and the depressing cold, a warm and brilliant multi-colored symbol of hope, flashes acroos the sky. They eagerly wait for the skies to clear up to see the rainbow.
But I don't.
See, while people fell in love with the prism-produced light of new hope and better endings, I fell in love with the monotonous pitter-patter's on the roof, the strong essence of petrichor filling up my nostrils and the clouds above with the color of his eyes.
Yes.
I fell in love with the rain.
YOU ARE READING
-shattered pieces-
Teen Fiction**a compilation of poems, short stories, quotes and thoughts, all by yours truly**
