The Storm

It rained this morning. Quiet raindrops symbolize the tears I can't cry as I concocted this storm particularly right. Lighting strikes.                FLASH! CRACK! Took my heart by surprise. I was just chillin', now my mind pacing, heart racing raindrops in my eyes. DRIP DROP. Dear Storm is picking up, comfortably cozy in my bed, drowning, seems wet enough. Thunder rolling,  shivers and shakes the scenes from my memories that this shit storm is howling at me "WAKE UP!!! I'm right here outside your window LOVE, come peek, I'm wet enough to transform that king into soggy sheets." Temptation. This all too proverbial. Like a mental depiction. You bring out Bravery to conquer my fear and look out the window. Slowly arising creeping cautiously cuz I can't confess how cowardly I can be. But you can B. You CAN. Standing long, confident, strong I race to the window to play in your wetness LOVE....but you're gone....go figure...should of known. All that remains is the presence of quiet splashes of what you used to be. Quiet raindrops. It rained this morning...