ANN, let us play like children to the rhythm of the rain

The Thunderstorm

this is how i speak when my soul pulsates,
the long curtains tear, reveal my nakedness,
not outdoors, nor in - but at the borderline,
waiting for you to embrace me.

this desolation gets renewed and all is serenity,
but the grain of sand within my shoe persists,
gnawing at my nervous system, grating at my mind,
i will never love you, not totally,
for the biting at my soul insanifies me.

remember the soft lights and simple melodies of old?
when all our words rolled smoothly off the tongue?
neither do i, because they never did exist,
not within reality, but mayhap we perceived them.

i dream of you, in calm unfettered ecstasy,
what i find when i awaken is an oddity,
exquisitely crafted upon a subway napkin,
your mundane suggestions and apologetic farewell.

let me wipe my tears upon your hair,
materialize, ghost of my misfortune,
we will dance beneath the deepest shade of storm clouds,
we'll play like children to the rhythm of the rain.


© poem by Superhero, USA