reminders from the monsoon rain

knock! knock!
I'm the sea that drenched your umbrella last night.
thought I'd drop by to meet you.
and look, you haven't gotten up yet.

please don't expect daily sunny mornings when I'm around.
and I know you didn't have a tiring day yesterday.
gone are those extra 15 minutes you spent wrapping the blankets around you,
it's already late and I know you might say it's probably because of me.

am I really that dull and unwelcoming?

thought you once called me your favorite.

you blend a cup of warmth while I pour outside your door.
and notice the dripping droplets of my body on your windows while you open the curtains.
as you take a sip of your caffeine,
you view how heavily I'm crying today.

but whenever I see those glancing eyes of yours,
time takes me back to those moments that I assume,
are long forgotten by you.

the memory of you closing your eyes,
so enthralling.
I would gently rest my tears on your skin
and you would play with me until you start sneezing.

that sniffing nose,
never looked so curious when you visit my shore to taste the petrichor.
you love that smell, don't you?

I can recall you and your friends,
splashing the puddles
all the way home until your mom finds you halfway.

today,
I feel like you don't live there anymore.

there is a list of things to remind you about,
some to make you giggle,
and some to reignite the mixed feelings.

but for now,
don't forget to pick up the clothes you've left to dry.