"lias" poems
and then I am sitting here
in front of an opend window
and the rain is falling.
falling. falling. falling.
Drip. Drip.
and then I am sitting here
and I am thinking about you.
I think about you and I think about me.
It's getting cold.
No moon. No stars.
And the rain is falling
on and on.
Inexorable
it is telling me all the things I don't want to hear.
It is washing me clean
from the lias
I've been telling myself
for too long.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC