Forgive me for these words that pour,
turn not your eyes this way,
for I am stuck in a season of the heart, and all it does here is rain.
If you must look this way I assure you that the rawest to come out of pain is poetry for the senses that'll never leave you numb;
I know you can relate.
Can you hear it as it storms inside?
Will you stand with me in it as words continue to pour, and we'll wait here together for the sun to shine?