Matter

It was the aftermath that mattered, at first.
It was how the makeup strewn down her cheeks
from the rain pelting her face like bullets as she
stood soaking up the tears from the sky.
It was how the pounding in her ears mimicked
the rumbling of the thunder hovering above everything.
It was the pain in her eyes that was sharper than
lightning strikes off in the distance.
But after some time, none of that weighed her down anymore.
It was the future that mattered now.
It's the waking up to the smell of warm tea
in the morning that matters.
It's the warmth of the sun's rays and how they match
the warmth of a blanket and a good book.
It's the new way she saw everything, looking for
beauty rather than fault that matters.
What matters is that for one split second in her presumably crazy life,
she is okay walking alone-not needing or wanting the rest

of the world's infinite insanity.

It's the important things that matter, this time, at the end.