raindrops bounce on
the window frame,
reminding me we're
in this room together.

your words are raindrops
playing on my metal frame -
nowness splatters
into existence  -
you remind me that
someday we won't be
in this room together.

you repeat endlessly
between my ears -
I sing along to my favorite song -
I want to tell you
all the lyrics
but my words fall
like raindrops.

unspoken are my
tear-shaped raindrops -
their tremors taunt me
on this side of the pane -
you remind me that
we were always
in the wrong
alternate universe.

the raindrops refract
your light,
dissolving a warm glow
into the evening fog,
you remind me that you're gone.

maybe the rain stopped,
but the silence is only
the absence of your voice,
the rest is just noise.

I think of our raindrops now -
smiling -
knowing that you have an umbrella.

I was the dry land in need of your drops. The dark clouds above had my faith that sooner you'd be in my reach. As I felt the heavy blows of the wind, whispering to my ear that you'd be with me at that moment, I saw you fell from above.

I thought it was something you and I only knew of. It was something only the land and rain could understand. You were nothing but raindrops nourishing the dry land until you've poured hard devastating it. Then, you left without a word.

The sun rose then I remembered, nothing ever quite really touches.

i love the rain it reminds me of you,
every droplet a tender touch
at times, a storm or two
terrifying passion
you used to call us
lovers
we were always more than mere
man and woman

it keeps raining in these part of town
raindrops falling causing
ripples on the ground
like my thoughts just going
round and round
"repetitive motion"
you sometimes whispered
my eyes drawn to you but
yours always to the ground

if irises are round
trace our line of sight in
perpendicular motions
i will be waiting in between
those moments your vision clears
anticipating the silent drop when
our eyes meet
turning two points into one

I like the thin blond hair on the back of your neck
in the light
and the way you touch your lips when you're nervous
(yes I know you don't know you do that)

these 16 years (square root of 256 with a root of 4 8x2)
spinning anxiously excitedly
baby jeep happiest thing independence is sweeeeeet

raindrops are euphoric thank you spring
please bring a storm to shake
my bones

my ****** control
growing ravenously
frick this shoot
I can control my mouth too

raindrops collecting
in a bottle it fills me
and yet I am still empty

the rain was just a drizzle
like my feelings any more
as we stood in awkward chat
and you can't find me any more.
not in here, at least,
in a quasi-happy fete,
with celebrations halted
because they make you fret.
I can't see my heart to give it
for it's always given back
and we'll stand in smoke and raindrops
with me turning myself black.
the black;
it can't reflect the light
so you'll perhaps not see
that my eyes have turned away
and my heart it didn't stay
and the part you have
is just the surface-me.
I won't let go, or let you in,
not again.
you'll only get the drizzle
not the swim.

The lack of emotion
in raindrops' fallings
should there be a laughter?
is there a pride
in being the last
to leave the cloud?