The Closeness of the Rain

A Poem by Lindsay

The distance between us,

Is closer than it appears.

But a magnetism emits unknowingly,

To draw our limbs apart.

My form will drift from view,

As soon as it comes.

The wind ruffles the space,

Where my hair once had been.

The ground swallows up,

The prints from my shoes.

And I gasp as the breath,

Is ripped from my throat.

A sound, soft, was that?

True, no, never heard.

Or yes once had been,

But untethered to memory.

Wet of thought, sticky, imbibing,

Spreading syrupy through veins.

Reaching, mulling over emotion,

That slip from them, hidden.

Runs dry of excitement,

Devoid of love and wine.

Only water, soon stagnant,

Evaporates under the cruel sun.

Unwittingly folds before its rays,

For with what can it fight?

And the distance between us grows,

As each droplet finds an earthen crack.

Pulled toward another, or to none.

Distance, nonetheless.

And what will be a desert,

Will never be remembered as lush.

A smell, a smile, a shake, no matter,

Forgotten with wounds of time.

Hurt, without learning,

Without feeling, sandy throat.

Buried beneath the surface now,

Burning, yearning, for a drop.

But why, however, shall the rain unearth,

This aimless, fruitless form?

And can it truly heal such pains,

Lying underneath, protected?

Or can it miss them, unaware,

Doubly callous, it seems?

Crawl to your knees, I say,

I tell myself under the sand.

And stand, I do to the rain,

And turn my back to its kisses.

Not as an affront, but to show,

No, own my old and opened wounds.

Not proudly, but honestly I accept,

The closeness of the rain.

© 2012 Lindsay

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Babe Roxx

And the closeness rain can hide your tears...your poem has a melancholy feel to it...you can feel a longing, a certain pain of emotion from this distance...there was a rhythm to your poem, as well...'the ground swallows up/the prints of my shoes...' Lovely metaphor...enjoyed the read...Thank you for sharing.