Her voice is like clear water
That drips upon a stone
In forests far and silent
Where Quiet plays alone.

Her thoughts are like the lotus
Abloom by sacred streams
Beneath the temple arches
Where Quiet sits and dreams.

Her kisses are the roses
That glow while dusk is deep
In Persian garden closes
Where Quiet falls asleep.

Speak to me of your daily whims
Of your recurring nightmares
Of your vague dreams
Of your subdued thoughts

Speak to me of the blinding sunlight
Of the watchful moon
Of the loquacious stars
Of the mendacious night sky

Speak to me of the blossoming flowers
Of the condescending trees
Of the dainty birds
Of the cool breeze

Speak to me of unsung novels
Of the rejected songs
Of the smashed guitars
Of the obnoxious trumpets

Speak to me of your distant memories
Of your hopeless aspirations
Of your unappreciated efforts
Of your seemingly insignificant presence

Speak to me of taboo perspectives
Of shunned personalities
Of existing gods
Of modern society

Speak to me of the inexplicable suffering
Of your death desires
Of your unheard cries
Of your weakening heart

Speak to me of unending love
Of blazing flames
Of transient emotions
Of eternal scars

Speak.
Speak to me.
Please speak to me.
Speak to me of anything.
I need to hear your voice.
The silence is unsettling.

It is 3am
And I lay in bed
The rain is singing me to sleep once again
Thunder rolling against the summer heat
Lightning blinking against the pale purple walls of my childhood bedroom
I came home yesterday
And tonight
I lay in bed
Listening to the rain
For a moment it stops
And I sense myself restless
I have always found comfort in storm
The sudden halt of it stirs me
The clouds have cleared into empty
And I sit, longing
I want the rain to come back to me like a forgotten lover
Want it to soothe me to sleep like it always does
But I know
That the sky
Isn't going to cry
Because I want it to
I know
That the sky will not be angry
Just because I am
I cannot expect nature
To take on the responsibility of lullaby
Cannot expect the weather
To try and match emotion
I want nothing more
Than to watch the downpour caress my windowsill
Watch the drops race against glass
I want
To hear the music that is torrent
But it is 3am
And I lay in bed
Knowing that the sky isn't going to cry
Because I want it to
Knowing
That things do not occur
Because I want them to
Life just happens
Ignorant of want
And the sky will only cry
When it feels like it.