her hands leave wet prints on the grape soda in the plastic cup.
she talked to the puddle in your yard while she waited for you to open the door. footsteps filling with groundwater, from where? 
the dew on her skin reflects oddly and the rivers in her eyes are roaring. 
the mist on her glasses is soft, like it's been painted with clouds. 
you stand closer and instead of a heartbeat you hear the sound of water over rocks, rapids and foam. 
her hair is saturated, and why wouldn't it be? 
a girl with waterfall eyelashes must be a river