Can You Here The Rain

Have you seen the Rain? I have. Do you know I have touched my lips to the window. Cold, damp, moisture presses softly between my eyelashes, moistening the the drought between my cheeks. Places where the salt from my tears have forges gullies.

Have you heard the thunder? The pain in my head aroused by an infinity of numbness. The crackle of a unfamiliar, yet recognizable, voice bleating love. Kindness now lost in the drums that play endlessly.

I am blinded by the lightening. The bolts of electricity that curse through my body. The white light that heaven holds reinforced, by anger. An anger for what I see inside me.

Softly I step back, take in the view widely. Look upwards toward the clouds and their grayness, ready to be molded and shaped by the darkness of the coming night.

I can see now the rain, mirrors of droplets, distorting yet comforting. The images falling apart as they fit the floor, puddles forming around my feet.


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