It's something about NYC that makes rain all that much more dreadful. I remember back in my hometown I prayed for rain at my bedside every night, gazing out of the window to see if God was listening. He never really was, she always came when I least expected it.
She came in the middle of the night when I felt crowded with too many thoughts already. It's ridiculous how persistent she is. She's only calm on a hard umbrella, and even then I have to hear the cries all that much louder. Maybe one day I'll leave it be, and I'll let her soak me in her misery... but I did that once.
I remember the day all so clearly. She started out perfectly calm.. just the soothe humidity tickled my anxiety. I went to school alone that day, she needed the day off she said to everyone. I understood, because it's not easy, being the Rain when you used to be the Sun.
That day, every glimpse or hint of the sun she used to shine disappeared.
All I ever saw from there were thick dark clouds, smelling of skunk. She was never the same, even her watershed became toxic to me.
YOU ARE READING
Moon Heroine
PoetryI can hear her footsteps in the rain, it sounds like shes getting closer. I never see her though...
