Wet Matches

With every cold little surprise 

That dashed across my confused, green eyes 

My mind tipped ship like lightning had hit;

It was raining inside. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance of my head 

Above me, the quiet rage so softly strong it shook my bed. 

I mumbled under my breath when a rat a 

tat… tat, sounded at my window.

I took a struggled breath this time without muttering, till it caught like distraught fabric on a 

door nail.

Curtains and lazy tries set aside, I strode to the pained glass 

at once. 

A figure, maybe a shadow, perhaps a man who’d been followed stood hollow on the other side of the pane. 

He was quiet, say.. shy, or maybe he just needed to get dry. 

But it wasn’t raining outside… 

Oh what had I done to deserve such weather, I thought, 

when a wry smile trickled from his lips and hit me in the chest. 

My neck, caught. only then did I trip, did I fall, 

I called, . . . out to the strange friend, the friendly stranger, someone I couldn’t see that I knew, a someone I didn’t know that I saw… I hadn’t known. 

He stopped me when I fell, we were both on the ground and I couldn’t tell what he told, . . . I hadn’t known.

My wet lashes tickled me awake. I had had a dream, . . . that wasn’t fake. I was awake.  

The whole time my eyes were open, not closed, and it didn’t seem to strike any one odd, they just…    jotted down notes.