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Rain patters on the window hurricane winds whistle round about my mind. I hear the rain, amazed that the sun's rays still fall to earth, warming and nurturing Cocooned in a throw, I look at the room I've lain in for three days in a pain of my making. I've become a cliche, the madwoman in the attic lamenting lost love, lost life. Cruelty knows no bounds, yet it binds. Rhythmically the rain batters at the panes. I don't want praise, I like my malaise I feel real when I feel pain I lie slain on the floor, amidst the wreckage of a marriage. I've died over and over these last three days I want to get up and comfort you To tell you that your life will go on Mine had to end. I'm sorry you found me on the floor, tablets strewn everywhere. Baby steps now my love you knew I was broken, there's only so many matryoshka dolls in the original I'm still here my love, it's just better that you don't see me, but I can watch over you. Your heart is broken, filling with rain and tears my heart and soul was broken when the ink was dry on the paper declaring us over. When I get up from the floor, I want you to listen to the rain and know it's me, my ghost knocking at your door.
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 6:13 AM UTC
Rainy days and heartbreak.
Rain patters on the window hurricane winds whistle round about my mind. I hear the rain, amazed that the sun's rays still fall to earth, warming and nurturing Cocooned in a throw, I look at the room I've lain in for three days in a pain of my making. I've become a cliche, the madwoman in the attic lamenting lost love, lost life. Cruelty knows no bounds, yet it binds. Rhythmically the rain batters at the panes. I don't want praise, I like my malaise I feel real when I feel pain I lie slain on the floor, amidst the wreckage of a marriage. I've died over and over these last three days I want to get up and comfort you To tell you that your life will go on Mine had to end. I'm sorry you found me on the floor, tablets strewn everywhere. Baby steps now my love you knew I was broken, there's only so many matryoshka dolls in the original I'm still here my love, it's just better that you don't see me, but I can watch over you. Your heart is broken, filling with rain and tears my heart and soul was broken when the ink was dry on the paper declaring us over. When I get up from the floor, I want you to listen to the rain and know it's me, my ghost knocking at your door.
Camellia-japonica
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 6:13 AM UTC
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