it’s been raining for centuries
into the bottle i have put out on the porch
watching the water drizzle into its plastic casing
having knocked it over every single time i try to pick it up
i let it sit by its lonesome,
but by the time i got up that morning,
the bottle was knocked over and the water was trickling out
i buried my face in my palms
as nothing i love is permanent
not even these tears of mine