the rain was just a drizzle
like my feelings any more
as we stood in awkward chat
and you can't find me any more.
not in here, at least,
in a quasi-happy fete,
with celebrations halted
because they make you fret.
I can't see my heart to give it
for it's always given back
and we'll stand in smoke and raindrops
with me turning myself black.
the black;
it can't reflect the light
so you'll perhaps not see
that my eyes have turned away
and my heart it didn't stay
and the part you have
is just the surface-me.
I won't let go, or let you in,
not again.
you'll only get the drizzle
not the swim.
My how it flows when it's a current, current.