Wind filtered cold through drops
that broke down the grey sky
caught up in her dark hair
and died.
she too had plans for the rain
ventured, virgin plans
those walking down the plains
beyond the window and her range
very untried, unhatched
undomained.
there were chatters in her mind
assumed laughters that might
could happen in some wild
if by heart, she might went
and fulfill what the world
said about the rain.
but the world is not her
but the world is not you
nor them
but the world is an apostrophe
possessive case, unrelative
others' words, others' books
lively talks but life's quiet
lips chatter but smiles quiet
all the time all she does is
fill the silence with some voice.
and in the end, her hand lies
on the window, over rain
all hushed, unstretched
unspoken and alone
no long drives, no friends
no to-fro romance zone.
solitude is never touched
but is seen on milestones
on sideways, in dark holes
and is dwelt in single beds
loneliness is what stays
between the rain that falls out
and the drizzle in her head.
and is felt at the ends
of every song and the dread
--- |
Submission Name: Dripping Dark
