i feel the gentle
release of the
rain,
finally gliding
down my
window
after a weekend of
heavy clouds
and violent
wind,
i feel the potential
of the clean
pages
of my notebook as
i write down my
latest little
ideas,
i feel the power
and the depth of
my solemn
self
in the mirror, blinking
back at me from the
shadows.
all these things
make my
throat clench,
my eyes burn,
like nothing has since
i twisted the
****
of the faucet
that controls my
feelings, and
made them flow
slower, so
long ago now.
it's you,
you who makes them
gush
out again
like water from
the sky, like
days going by
and calendar pages
fluttering, or like
remembering
all the other
selves I've seen staring
back at me, asking
what are you doing to
yourself
now?
it's you who cuts
through layers of
scab and scars and
makes the melancholy
stir and sting
anew again.
each beautiful
thing, each one
tinged with
sadness,
makes me grateful,
not for the pain,
but for those feelings,
felt
again, when you
went out with me and
brought me back to
nature,
made me excited
to learn again, and
taught me that
'Good' is who
and what i
am.