Drip, drip droplets on my scars,
Make circular movements with your thumb
on my forehead; it glistens.
Light candles on the wet grass,
Words you speak summon little rats crawling
on my body; it glistens.
Heard the bells ringing, "It is time
for your final resting lullabies
that will carry you under sparkling fireflies."
I glisten on the
damp ground;
on your broad shoulders;
on the world's axis spinning around.
With you, I take a final breath as beads
of sweat make their way down my collarbone.
Will I find my home
under crystal fears and dripping tears
from clouds of pre-made cotton?
Will the audience upstage past
waves of silky purple—
will they hear my mundane
roars of thunder?
Drip, drip droplets on my scars.
Drip sudden gifts from the stars.
Fear of Rain: 78%
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�...
