irony setting in from the season whence saint valentine chose to start living

despite the snow-
the air is a shard of glass.
rubbing up against my skin.
and i breathe in wood and sand.
freezing rain scrapes off dead cells.
and introduces new tissue into the harsh tundra of monotony.
but i know
if water was to fall untouched from the sky
and if our bodies would shiver not.
outside of our second habitats.
that we would clasp hands like it was the end of the world.
[so tightly our fingers would start to meld]

and start to run.

'There were some younger kids who followed the tracks that day

It was a passing afternoon that came and took them away

So we forgot our names lying in the tall grass under the billboard dreams

Oh I'll be with you running from the rain

When it reaches the end of the line

See myself reflected on the broken glass

As the gates come crashing down

There is blood on the tracks tonight

And rust inside our veins

We will make it time before the storm'

-"Running From the Rain"

Credits: Taylor Williams for photography & Thursday for lyrics