How ancient is the memory, of a being such as thee?
Perhaps it's fate, that kept you here, to share of it with me.
But though you are a mighty thing, and regal as can be,
Your age is great, and if we wait,
I fear you'll fall on me.

shadows are falling,
clouds and people and buildings and trees
crowd all around us as our stomachs crawl
from the graves we dug ourselves early,
just in case we need them.
*we do.

We feel better when the sky owns up to the bleakness of the world; it turns grey and endless and it cries with us. We hide from the sun because it warms our skin and lies about a better tomorrow. Ice bites our noses and rattles our teeth- it makes us feel alive but it too, is swallowed by the warmth we have taught ourselves to hate. We are fighting for happiness but waiting for the warmth and the flush and the laughter to end, that we might envelope ourselves once more in our depression, anxiety and pain.
But I am tired of my cocoon of misery; this atmosphere filled with the sensation of waiting for rain. You three are my best friends. I have made an astonishing number of mistakes in my life but loving you is not one of them.

So I will wait for rain with you.

**And I will revel in the sun when you find it.

the bottle had become
my comfort
and I allowed myself
to drown

i tried to swim
back up
but your hate
kept pulling
me down