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Jun 28, 2008

I wrote this poem a long time ago. You can thank Lain for me for it.

Rain

I stood on my front porch and watched as its red tail stuck up from behind the trees and it's growling shook the ground on which I stood. I knew that it was him. He was leaving. He did not tell me good-bye. I watched as the tail traveled down its path and its roar got louder. It felt as if it was screaming for the sky and earth to accept it. But it was not the one who was asking. He was declaring that he was taking to the sky, and that you were being warned.

I stood there and hoped that he could have seen me. That I would cry. That I would be entrusted with the screeching decibels for the tearing of my heart. That he would look down from the heavens and see me standing here as the rain began to fall, saving me the embarrassment, of being seen crying.

But his winged creature carried him away from me. And when it finally lifted him up into the sky, I could not be seen. I did not cry, my heart gave a little murmur. It knew that something happened. And that sweet rain, that cold rain, did not come. It did not help in my act of moaning.

Was it waiting for it to happen a second time? Was it waiting for him to return? For me to raise my hopes that he might realize that I was worth having? That he would come looking for me? For me to realize that he was here for three months and that he did not once came to say hello? Was it waiting for the day that it sinks in and I'm wondering one cold night by the bay?

I will stood there looking out at the sea and once again I see his plane as it carried him off. My skirt was being picked up by the wind, and my legs started to feel the biting sting of sand. The night air got colder and the smells around me become one. The scent of rain. It was coming. With my head held high and my feet not hurrying to carry me away, I felt it first on my back. Then it fell on my head, and it worked its way down to my heels.

As the heat was slowly being forced from my body, I forced tears from my soul. I had to cry. I had to heal. If I held on to what he did to me I never will. It would just be another sob story to tell someone. I will heal this, and no one would know that he was here. In my heart. That he tore it and left me asking "Why?". My chest shook and my cries got louder. I knew that no one was around as I fell to my knees and cried. I was not just crying because of him anymore. I was crying for all the times that I didn't. For everyone that I had ever lost or missed, and kept it inside. For every disappointment that I just made light of.

From one girl to another she was telling me that it was all right to cry. I listened. Mother and child cried that night. When it was over I walked home. We were both cleansed. Me of aching wounds and her of the smudges man had placed on her.

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