when it rains; harder now, at the sound of it's name

Death, time and God hold man to the sticky Earth

We hold our palms to the sky, expecting rain

But the rain doesn’t come just because the tongue

Has run itself dry

 

There’s something to be said about smoke twisting itself out of a

Hardly parted window. June

I hold myself together. Now

 

Trying to categorize memories. They are alive

Just below the eyes, tug the corners, tear, and keep what you can

Obsess if you’d like. The human brain is a fickle little thing

 

Always forgetting to close the windows

When it rains; harder now, at the sound of it’s name

Less often a more opportune muse,

And I had all but forgotten

Tragedy travels in two’s

So when you were outside throwing your stomach on the ground

I was inside, preparing myself for the second round.

Time is nothing, timing is everything.

Author's Note

if you didn't like it, please tell me why.