we're driving home.
it's raining and
car lights shine through rain-splattered windshields
like angry neon brushstrokes.
sometimes i think i can see
every single color of the rainbow
when i stare at white streetlights.
sometimes those chromatic hallucinations
make me think
of all the beauty trapped
under our skins.
water splashes under the car's tires.
the sound lulls me to drowsiness.
how long has it been, i wonder,
since i last fell asleep in a car seat
unaware and unworried.
the sky is dark.
it darkened hours ago.
i can still feel its warmth on my skin,
if i close my eyes, and think of noon.
if i breathe in,
moisture fills my throat and my lungs
and everything becomes just a little clearer.
i live for rainy days.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC
we're driving home.
it's raining and
car lights shine through rain-splattered windshields
like angry neon brushstrokes.
sometimes i think i can see
every single color of the rainbow
when i stare at white streetlights.
sometimes those chromatic hallucinations
make me think
of all the beauty trapped
under our skins.
water splashes under the car's tires.
the sound lulls me to drowsiness.
how long has it been, i wonder,
since i last fell asleep in a car seat
unaware and unworried.
the sky is dark.
it darkened hours ago.
i can still feel its warmth on my skin,
if i close my eyes, and think of noon.
if i breathe in,
moisture fills my throat and my lungs
and everything becomes just a little clearer.
i live for rainy days.
