Open, the hollow no longer.
Flowing blue silk into empty ravines.
The sound of breaking free
holding me close to the edge,
grasping me by the hands.
When the dam breaks,
I pour my soul into cityscapes.
There is no heart in towers,
so I must reside in rivers
of devotion clinging
to me where water falls.
Tears in my eyes swell as my legs dangle,
caught by sudden surges of emotion–
the lotion smothered only by waves of pure.
Rapids reek of compassion
as wooden pieces fall away;
I'm captured by a stranger.
A security felt in the midst of danger,
I let the dam float down the river—
suddenly, I am found by a nomadic manger.
A saving grace, I'm baffled from love.
Through a small microscope,
a splinter from remains casts doubt.
I'm still afraid that life might
change direction and I'll be lost—
flailing desperation down to the hard,
rough pavement.
When the dam breaks,
will my soul be met with the hands of grace
or swiped away from patterns of abandonment
littering walkways
stapled to my heart?
Forecast: 22% Chance of Rain
YOU ARE READING
It's Raining Outside
Poetry[Completed] 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃. I don't know how else to say this, but... 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬; 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧�...
