what chance does the rain have,
of fixing a broken heart?

i told you once that i didn’t love you,
on a cold morning,
as raindrops fell from the swollen clouds.

so similar to the rain on a day,
when drumbeats sounded from the canvas of stars,
and our faces turned to watch the heavens open up,
phantom hands grasping each others.

i lay alone under the clouds,
listen to the afterworld pour it’s sorrows,
sliding down my bedroom windows
remembering a night you held me close
and i couldn’t breathe.

i told you that you’d hold me,
that day
forevermore
and you held me, and held me,
until i felt like i was on fire,
so i set myself in stone.

as the stone cracks,
i feel the rain on my face again,
and i long to hold your hand
watch the god’s home above
as they shed tears for us,
this small world
under storms of fires and drums.