"Smile," she says. She knows me well.
I pick up the heavy corners of my mouth and,
Hammer and nails in hand, I attach them high on my cheeks.
She nods and smiles and takes my hand.

"You are happy?" she asks but there was no question.
I nod anyway, despite the fact that she knows, she knows me well.
I believe it because she said it and I won't question it and that's good.
Or perhaps it's bad, I still can't tell.

"Look at her," she murmurs and I've never heard that much scorn;
Her face twists into a disgusted caricature more bitter than bile.
She pats my hand absentmindedly and I do not copy her expression
But instead take her gentle reminder to smile.

"Not them. Not that," she tells me so surely and so I look away
She knows me so well, knows what I want and need
So well that I don't need to know myself. So well that I can't begin to.
She sees my doubt, reaches into the soil, and snatches up the seeds.

"Careful, be careful!" she implores me and I remember to be afraid.
She cares for me more than most, more than myself,
If anything were to happen to me, she'd be lost, she'd waste away.
I make sure to panic and underestimate my health.

"Don't speak." she says quickly, before I can make a request;
She wraps me up  in blankets of misplaced pride.
I bite my tongue and practice the art of restraint so as not to shame her.
When I feel the want, I avert my eyes.

"Did you forget?" she whispers and I am shaken and unsure.
I search my memories but I cannot recall whatever I'd forgotten.
She giggles but she is not happy and I scold myself harshly with a smile.
She does not stop me so I continue without end.

"Come back. Stay." she bids me and I truly want to;
She is everything I have ever known and she knows me so well.
There will be days where I will return to the warm circle of her arms.
Whether that's good or bad, I still can't tell.

Why do you take beautiful things
and turn them into instruments
of sadness?

I wonder about the rain
A good deal more than any sane person should

The way it falls
the inevitably of it
down
down
down
and then
crash
And just like that
It's as if it never existed

What if we're all just raindrops
falling for what mistakably
seems like forever
and then
boom
nothing
the only thing left
being the size of our splash

Memories become
molecules we happen pick up along the way

It must be hard
when you're falling
to think of anything but the ground
who cares about where you fell from
or the places you've transversed
when the only thing in front
is solid asphalt

What I'm saying is
What if we're just raindrops
inevitably falling
and if that's a fact that will never change
what good does it do
to overthink
to stress
to doubt yourself

When in the end
we're all just a splash on the pavement