rain

it is raining. it's a quiet rain. the wind barely blows. the birds are hiding away. my curtains are all drawn. i peek into the little bit that isn't. the droplets land on the canal in front of my apartment. the sun is nowhere to be found and that's just fine. the fans on my budding computer whir as i sit here. the leaves are shaken on this cons-cell tree. oh and how the moss smells. the peculiar smell of the wet air. if the rain could sing, then this would be its song. the patterns on my windows they dance and move all around. if i weren't alone i would be dancing too. i wish this puddle was for me and for you.

it is raining. and i start to think about all of the past times it's rained. all the times i got drenched while outside. all of the times i have seen her cry. all of the times i've been feeling like this… it all comes to me like a flood. i can no longer cross that river, or see that pond. it's true, a lot has changed… that much is clear. i guess i just wish you were here– it's so, so draining.

it is raining. and i'm inside. the clouds are humid but quite warm. the mystery fills my lungs. the voices of people are heard through my walls. i think that makes it more lonely than anything else. my washing machine, it speaks. but it's not to me it's speaking. in this little cupboard i sit alone. with the rain to keep me home. oh telling you how i feel… i keep refraining. so instead here i'll stay. under my pillow covers and sheets. and i'll repeat,

it is raining.