230: Hermits
- Eudaemonia Records
- Apr 5, 2021
- 1 min read
They say the people who like rain the best are those who suffer silently. He doesn't know if it is true. But he likes the rain. He likes the cold that washes in and fills his room like the deep currents of a river. He beds down under the soft rock of his covers and feels the currents touch his face. Fingers of ice. He likes to curl up and listen. The pitter-patters on the surface of his window far above. It draws the fish out. If he closes his eyes, he is just snug enough to remember her imprint next to him, too.
Written by: Katrine Hjulstad
Instagram: @katrinehjulstad
Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.
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