Rain,
Come wash the sting
Trickle down my nose, across my dimpled pores
Flood me
Wash me
Reveal my imperfections bright,
Water painting rocks

I am not a graceful person
Strung up on a cloud of dreams and expectations
I am the creaking of floorboards and the cascading fall of pens
Clattering
Onto the linoleum tile.
I am the tag – along shoelace, daring you to take another step.
I dance on the edge of the cliff, tempting fate
Every step I take

I am a watcher, eyes, squeezed shut
Saturated in discarded thoughts
Burdened with an unshakable cloud

I am a lamp post-licker
Sunday morning sleeper.
I don’t preen my feathers or lick my paws,
Early morning dew,
Caressing vibrant crests of green

Liquid salt kissing pursed lips.
Gossamer trills of words seeping
Into a whirring conscious
Piercing deep
Colors

Rocks develop shells
Gathering fragments of empty stars,
Sprinkled on the ground by fallen


Brushed off shoulders
Spiraling
Into emptiness

I have adorned a shell
To repel and protect my stain – glass heart
Held together by the hope of a dream
One mistake, the shrapnel shatters
A million colors swirling
A steady red current
A prison made of air, so strong
Encompassing my essence
Clogging my brain

A breach, however slight the moment,
A silent whisper, music to my buzzing ears
I breathe new words
And take in centuries past.
A single

Breath.

Rain
No one else can feel your sweet serenity on my skin
Except for me
Empty my conscious
Let me bathe in the freedom of time
Soak up the forgotten and
Move
Stick to me
A second skin silently eroding my shell, freeing me from
Myself.
Come.
Rain.