Do not ask me about rain.
Do not, because i know my mouth will never shut up and you know i get worried when i talk more than three minutes.
Do not because i know talking about my passion will never lure you and i will blame myself forever for talking more than three minutes.
But I decided not to care because it's my way of survival, because my passions built a home in me that even rainstorms couldn't break it, instead they helped them to grow.
How does it feel not to feel alone?
A question that's answered when rain comes to mind, in the middle of the night when I'm awake, besides my lonely friend the moon, i have the liquids that fall upon the earth to share my sorrows and blend them through the grass, but somehow they fade away like nothing ever happened.
First of all, i love rain because i sigh when i hear it, it's my inner tears that never had the courage to escape my eyeballs and the sound of my grief falling and falling and never coming back up.
I love rain because it pats my shoulder and comforts me that I'm not alone in this, I'm not the only one never running out of tears in the middle of the night or in every possible minute of the day. I'm not alone in this and nature will never stop crying to give us life.
I say it often that nature inspires me, it's not only in the pieces of my poems and it's not only in the metaphors i write, it inspires me because it sacrifices with no rewards, rain falls, water falls, and water is the necessity of life, nature gives us life when we are the ones ruining every bit of it.
It's forgiving and it's kind, it's a great company and a big inspiration, how can you not love nature?
And again, i love rain because it's when i mostly feel alive, in the season of lovers i take the moon's hand and of course we all watch the rain, because rain, in simple words, is beautiful, beautiful, and every single strand of beauty in this earth.
I love rain because i blossom at it falls, even with no physical touch, i'll tell the world again to look, how beautiful nature actually is when the skies are dominated with the color of grey, when you can even feel alive in no whites and no blacks, you don't have to?
What else do you need if life is constantly falling on your skin?
YOU ARE READING
CHAOTIC.
Poetry2# SLAM January 9th 2019 And you know you're creating art When your heart is slowly falling apart.