I like the rain the most

When it rains out, it's like the whole world chains. It's dark outside but it's not quite night time, the atmosphere is gentle but it's not quite dawn.

And when you sit inside -- when you just sit and listen and you can hear the rapping of the rain on the window, I swear it's the sound of a thousand tiny voices speaking in a foreign language, and it becomes my own little world. It becomes my own little world where I can stay couped up inside, where I can dim all the lights and wrap myself in a blanket in imitation of beautiful butterflies.

It becomes a day where I want nothing else but to share it with her, under covers and in secret words and languages. Words only heard by lips pressed kissing, gently and softly. Words only heard in the laughter playing boardgames on the floor. Words only heard in the quiet sound of footsteps in the kitchen, popping popcorn before diving into the world of a blanket and the noise of the rain, watching a cheesy movie with no sounds and you mouth your own words.

And she catches me in this little world of mine, and it's a place I've never been with anyone else, and it's a place I never want to be with anyone else other than her. In our own little world where we can pull blankets over our head. Where we can get away with anything -- staying inside without a care in the world, without a care for work or without a care for other people. They'll understand if we say we weren't there because it was raining. They'll understand if we say we were too busy falling in love with every raindrop that fell from the sky.

They'll understand and they'll let go, the way we can let go of everything, all bundled up not in blankets but in the comfort of each other. In the comfort of these smiles, this world.

In the comfort of this love.

When it rains, I want nothing but to be in this little world with her, this little bubble, loving her.