Description
Sometimes rain refuses to reflect its origins.
Why must I mirror those who came before me?
Do I not have a choice in what I say to the world?
How this is forever out of my control.
I can see you looking at me.
You think your glance went unnoticed but I was waiting for it.
Sitting here, pretending patiently. The hunger for validation and the upheaval of isolation spars with each other like rain ignoring its birthplace.
I can see you Darlene.
You haven’t answered any of my texts and I know you are home.
I can see the bloody kitchen light from here.
I’m sorry I forgot to pick up bread on the way home.
You know it’s raining and my bike totally shits itself in the rain.
Just give me a sign, please.
It’s cold and my socks are wet.
You know I hate wet socks.