windows
12.07.2017
sideways.
that’s the way it’s coming
in the bedroom window
and the fabric is stained
grey to black.
i lay myself down.
i watch the torrential
downpour, and i think
of you. cleaning
up the mess. does
the water draw you
out like a witch dowser?
time passes in chunks,
and suddenly i’ve found half
the day wasted in the
voyeurism of gravity mixing
with vapours of H20.
and where are you?
i don’t know is the answer
i’d most prefer to give.
it’s in the spot that makes
me ache – the place where
i am not. guilt rises through
my brittle bones.
i think you know this.
i think you look through the
window of my heart and see
where the downpour occurs.
i opened it for you, after all.
and when you see it
i think you smile.
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12.07.2017 at 13:03:01
Great!
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