That poem I wrote that one time about rain.

Because it started raining on me while I was walking to class today:

I dreamt the sky wrenched open and left me covered,
A clean and tidy canvas where colors ran.
Hydrated. Saturated. Satisfied.
Form less defined-- hue more vivid still,
A comfort in the raw stillness.
Still- I shivered in distaste.
Embarassed and so flushed.
While thickly concealed,
In clearest paint--
Call attention.
Drip. Drop.