It's Raining Outside

Life, My Lover

I shed skins of old in the evening.
My day is done and I am nothing
but a worn-out mummy.
I smile.
Water still leaks from atop my bedroom ceiling,
and I can taste it now;
it's pristine.

I lie down and wrap myself
with silk memories and think of the times
when I had everything.
If you could sing me a ballad,
it would taste like freshness
after a long winter.

I would sit on the piano.
You would be playing a melody.
I could feel it in my heart;
it's inspired after my breathing.

My love for you is
marigolds standing tall
in 8 feet snow, and if you watered them,
they would only grow.
I can imagine you there playing with my hair,
whispering in my ear secrets you only share
with the mirror.

I embraced your deepest fears.
If I told you mine, you would carry them
in your two hands and place them
in a little pot by the windowsill.
The sun would grow them into
a ballad of past barriers,
and I would finally be a free bird
and you would be my wings.

I would take you down the dirt road
into the garden of Eden.
There, music would finally let us be.

Forecast: 30% Chance of Rain