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.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 7:21 PM UTC
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.
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