taupe

soft shoes left at the door. the flicker of a lightbulb at midnight. coffee stains. pictures hung with pins on the wall, slowly becoming dusty, but they’ve always been there. a ticking watch. the musty smell of morning after a night of rain, and it may rain again, but the melancholy is too beautiful to wish away. they know how to let the rain come, and to love it when it does--to watch the light make patterns through the smudges on the windowpanes.