he knew I loved the rain
the taunting drops of freedom
awakening my inner child
the relaxing rhythmic tap on my cracked window
the oh-so-thrilling scent of life
clinging onto leaves and grass and everything man made as well
he knew I loved the rain
but somehow
his sly smile while passionately describing the freeing rhythm and scent
made me loathe all it was
for an instant
before running out the door and drenching
myself in the innocent tears of angels
just like the ones I thought he used to shed
YOU ARE READING
embers
Poetryhis hands were blue his eyes black his lips were white and his cheeks red but all people saw was a rainbow s h o r t p o e m s - a k a :: results of too often exaggerated yet too real emotions number twenty-eight in poetry on april seventeenth (jus...
