retreat and reflection

It’s raining outside and I’m simply sitting here on my bed, indulging in the blandness of melancholy while leaning on a tiring shoulder. My greatest conscious concerns are for my physical lethargy; I'm yearning for that dizzy contentment that I certainly do not know now. The rain is not a spring rain or a summer rain, is certainly not a delightful rain, which falls with big wet warm drops that are spectacular and make you feel timeless and forever beautiful. The rain now is cold, just-before-snow drizzle; a gray mist that inspires me to wrap up in some wonderful sweater from my history; some item from a favorite grandma that I no longer know or perhaps a lover I never lost. I want to lose myself in a rain like this and sink down into my loneliness and feel like I’ll forever be just as I am. Perhaps it is a cuddle rain. Cuddles, though, are not nearly as deep as lonely introspection.