Inclement, a poem

When do we reach the subtle, quiet point where rain sounds like static? and obscures me from your vision? The cameras viewfinder is covered in droplets. You return inside leaving me in my downpour. My body is covered in effervescent drops, pixels. obscuring me as well as I was
hidden from the lens. The storm brews, you’re inside with your fire. But soon the storm passes and
the sun dries me, focuses the lens. You burn in your fire that you hid in. You see the beautiful landscape outside, Verdant greens that run below my dry shoes, my dry hair, my dry eyes. When did we reach that subtle and quiet point where rain sounds like static? “You’re right, someone’s
always watching you.”

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