We were more than lightning
flashing against the open night,
with splinters of stars scattered
between our hearts and hands
we took a stand as the thunder
rolled, booming and crashing,
we laughed along in songs as
the rain loomed on – you and I
were always more than sparks
falling in the backdrop of night,
we were the illumination of the
storm, and the hero and the end;
tempted by the hands of fate, we
kept our sins to wash them away.
As the night progressed
into the gentle falling of
rain against the windows,
my words washed away
into memory, drifting by
the outskirts of streams,
in downcast symphonies
set to rhythms and blues;
with the winds twitching,
mumbling the remainder
of my thoughts, I am left
to drown in the hopes of
love in silence, hardened
against memories of soft
jazz, flowing like the rain.
I held onto her laughter
as an echo past her heart,
beating out sonnets to a
fair rhythm of jazz in the
rain – where each giggle,
lightened in a sigh was a
stem of a heartbeat left to
blossom in the reflections
of the rising moon. I held
on tighter to her laughter,
tangled inside my embrace
as newly found promises,
hoping to bottle them up,
and set my dreams on fire,
with the echoed chanting
of a sonnet kissing the rain.
just take my hand and let us
slow dance in the rain; swirling
between droplets and each other
around one in the morning, when
the night is innocent and quiet,
slowly creeping past insecurities
while warm at the touch of hand.
we’ll dance between the breezes,
making up lyrics as we go to the
tune of taking turns making each
other blush as we twirl and spin,
dipping in time to droplets; just
take my hand and help me fall
in love with the rain once again.
It was such a gentle cleansing,
with fragments of my former
self, falling in line with the rain;
the wind blowing and leaving
scars of days past, in debt to the
life I left behind, repaying my
sins with a promise of another
sunrise, one lasting chance left
to blow if the winds should shift
so slightly. It was a buildup of
my mistakes falling before my
eyes, dropping from the heavens
to show their past disguises and
remind me where I was headed,
with the passing of the storm.
It was only the silence
returning, creeping in
through the cracks with
a resilience in latitude
towards the tremors of
heartache and looming
debris; twice crossing
stages of change and
promises subdued with
the helping hands of
another, melting down
with the cries of rain.
believing twice in conviction
with a knack for innocence,
she came in like the rain in
summer; hitting hard, lingering
softly. she was still decadence
dropping from the heavens in
echoes, washing away blue
light memories from the moon.
she cleared away all wreckage
in one gentle fall, including me,
without a change in season or
a promise left to break – only an
ounce of hope past the silence
left glaring off the puddles,
which is why I still take to the
window, every time it rains.
I’m starting to miss
the rain – the humble
falling from grace
of something so sweet,
innocent even, coming
down from the heavens
to greet us all here.
Or maybe I just miss
how you’d wrap me in
your arms with every
drop – either way, I’m
ready for spring.
I don’t believe in fate
or chance, and serendipity
was only ever just a girl,
but she came dancing into
my life with colors of blue,
chanting storms of hope
and promise, parading about
with one hand on the horizon,
the other one twirling rain;
she was full of questions
but she was always the only
answer, and perhaps that’s
why I was left in a haze
when she was gone, clearing
away the notions of uprising
in a dance meant for two.
With nothing left to do
but stare out the window,
I count memories as they come
plummeting down, watching
as they fall and crash
drop by drop, day by day,
creating puddles and hurdles
in their crestfallen wake –
but you can’t see them anymore;
it must be sunny in Florida.
Storylines in Verse 