This rain, it’s always here,
Bulging dirty clouds,
spewing ashen drops,
A muddy volcano, erupting despair.
Where are you now?
Nature covers us, her filth; some call it grief.
Not me—sad fate that rains and rains and rains.
Even the angels cry; translucent tears can’t wash me away.
God, do you weep or laugh?
The joke is on me—he left me here.
Grubby rainwater covers the rainbow,
Leading to the other side—his home.
And you said I would be the first to go…
Written By Cruel Virgin
5 comments:
"Not me—sad fate that rains and rains and rains."
I like the rhythm of the repetition here. The last line is good, too.
Burnt up relationships do indeed make us far dirtier than the stickiest mud ever can. Sad about the reversal, you staying and him leaving you. Good choice to put that into the poem.
Reminds me of when people speak of evil as a 'stain upon a soul'.
Thanks, you guys.
i feel ...
funny how two relationships with the same person can leave you feeling the same way.
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