Last Winter

Cold

I sit still in the rain with my

Heart gone but for a beat like the

Pounding of my eardrums on

Your last words to me.

Drip drops patter ferociously as they

Hit the concrete slab beneath my

Soppy wet figure and my

Tears blend in perfectly to the

Water gliding across my form.

Something in the way the

Liquid hits the blades of grass as it

Trails down the hill to the

Gutter where I wish I could

Toss the lived nightmare

Of you

Makes me calm in a

Moment and catch my

Quaking breath.

I slip back and forth like a

Pendulum with no

Center as more

Clouds roll in and the

Leaves cry alongside me.

The forest sings me sweet

Lullabies as salamanders slide by my

Soggy boots and the gutter hushes

Me to rest my

Sagging eyes and take some time to

Acknowledge the crisp air beneath

The storm.

In a hollow place in my

Aching head I see the

Quaintness of the

Drip drops in the evening and I

Grasp myself softly to

Remember I’m still here.

—

Thank you for reading. This poem was born from a vivid memory of giving myself some sweet solitude in a time of trauma. The choppiness of the flow is designed to match the tattered breaths, and harsh gulps of air that often accompany a deep cry. If you enjoyed the read, and would like to show support, please continue to explore and share my work. Tips are also greatly appreciated.