The white cries flow down her cheeks;
The pale odor of cries
Bordering the distant skyline.
I hear you calling me
In the soft laughter of wind.
If it rains in this green noon,
Reach your hand out;
the window's wide open.
This drizzling rain soothes the eyes that have
Grown tired of crying and crying and crying.
I want to feel you in this pouring rain—
A thousand excuses tattooed on my heart.
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A/N: Aren't the poems now revolving around rain as one of their metaphors? Well, a storm's going to hit our area soon! Stay safe, and vote if you enjoyed it :)
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the slow art of breathing bitter
Poetryslow dancing love and pain in the midnight chorus of liquor-washed autumn green ... || a constellation of destructive poetry ||
