The soft rain does not scare me,
Not with its silver fingertips.
But a broken hug breaks bodies down,
Hallways drown in morning sweat.
Shadows bless the sad face.
I refuse my body that fails me so.
My body vaults itself toward
The door of some treasured cove;
Floor wet to the marrow, it seems
There are no ways to circumvent the rain.
A single toe dipped in the pond,
A single bee braving the promise of the flood.
I cannot move everywhere I'd like to,
Unrooted I am to you— Oh dancing plant,
Thirsty: A stupid yawn sets in.
The rain comes in thin sheets of burgundy,
Disappointment drips out of my feverish ear.
Then comes fish-eyes, golden strands of hair,
A rainbow thick as a stack of cards.
I hate it. It makes me feel lost and trapped, yet hopeful, perhaps Pandoric. Yet, I don't know the speaker, nor whom is being spoken to. This emotion without truly knowing the meaning infuriates me. Maybe that's why it's brilliant.
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