little poems, little stories

rains feelings

I put my phone down to finally fall asleep.

It was late, it was cold, but also quiet. I enjoyed it.

My head was throbbing, as if someone was trying to tear down a wall. A sturdy wall.

I sighed sitting in my bed, looking up at the boring lifeless ceiling. If only it could look back at me.

I heard tapping.

Rapid, muffled, tapping. It was outside my window. It was dark and cold. My favourite colour is black and I like wearing hoodies.

I stood up from my bed, bare feet touching the carpet. I heard tapping. Rapid, not muffled tapping.

Sometimes you have to open a window to realise it's raining.

The cold air invited itself into my room, making my legs and shoulders shiver. It was pleasant to me yet it wasn't warm.

I didn't see the rain, it was dark, but my ears haven't failed me. I heard tapping. Rapid, clear tapping.

The wet droplets slapped against the concrete 10 feet below me into my garden. They all made different sounds before vanishing into the ground.

It was cold, and yet, I felt warm. I felt at ease. Breathing.

I inhaled the fresh air, letting it fill my lungs full, almost tasting its invisible watery taste. I sighed, letting go of the air, hoping we would speak again someday.

I closed my eyes, they were tired, really tired. I would lie to myself if I said that I didn't hear tapping.

He flashed in my mind. A quick picture of a handsome boy. He was handsome. I opened my eyes to see the fingerprint smudged window.

My body shivered. It was cold, yet I was in a warm room, I was still cold.

Not freezing, but i couldn't feel the warmth.

I said his name. Quietly, my voice breaking. I said his name into the wind. Silently wishing it would reach its target and repeat itself.

I felt colder, i started to miss the warmth.

My feet carried me away from the window. Cold joints dragging me along to a room next door.

I held onto the sink. Hands boiling yet not warm. Unnecessary heat.

I looked at my blurry self in the mirror. Messy, black looking hair, slim face and nice eyes, lips. Small nose.

I wasn't pretty. Not anymore.

They lost their spark, colour, life. They didn't look the same anymore. I couldn't tell what colour they were.

It was dark, but not dark enough to not see the obvious.

I looked away, hands tangled up in my hair. My head was throbbing, like someone was trying to get through something, get over something.

I opened the window. I heard tapping again.

My feet dragged me back to my room, window still open, darkness still present, cold was still there.

I was in a warm room, I could see well enough, I was far away from the window.

Why do I feel like I do ? If the window is far, and the room is warm ?

I closed the window.

Walked to my bed.

I found a torch in my phone.

So why ?

I heard tapping.

Rapid, muffled tapping.

I put down my phone to finally fall asleep.

"Some people feel the rain, others just get wet."