Tuesday, October 4, 2022

the night i fell like rain on your face

we had a house of the giggling crying, and the shouting lot
the coarse cuss and voices following our footsteps, 
strolling through the high, droplets on your face. 
why do you keep asking me to slow down my pace? 

the tether, the feather, and the familiar faces of a couple hundred 
could not stop me from defying the gravity in my mind. 
we lie, soaked in thoughts and the deal of the day 
ask your dreary questions, but I beg you to pave the way. 

you put our arms above your head, the air sighs out loud 
and I feel myself vaporize away, under your drowsy breath. 
there was something about that night I fell like rain 
onto your lap, the night I saw my sanity get slain. 

I put half of myself on the platter, served with ice and tonic, 
and you, lying on the shelf, gave me your most certain dubious look, 
your stoic smile piercing through the end in an unexpected wave. 
how can I ignore your gentle eyes who beg me not to behave? 

three twenty-nine lines of a lover's complaint cannot undo my grief 
nor the fingertips wandering on my skin, all through the ride. 
give me a stage, and I will give you a hundred poems to your name. 
but in the meantime, just hand me some antiseptic for the maim. 

the rain is a vagrant who stops for a moment on your face, adoring; 
yet another cigarette, exhausting ages in a matter of a minute. 
there was something about that night I fell like rain, 
your wandering hand on my chest and the drugs in my brain. 

It's the artifice of the hour, so temporary, like you and me 
waiting for you, and the tree of fruits and green and branches. 
hot wet blood on my face, yours adorned with the warm calm rain 
I know when you leave, I'll be left graceless, sick, and insane. 

the preliminary kisses and cream, all the shine all the rust 
that's gathered on the inside, tell me all the things you wanna do. 
all solemn and sincere, we lie on the table and make things up 
focused on fiction, we surrender to the grief that's stored in the cup. 

now it's been a year or two, maybe three; let's say four, for sure 
the temper like a permanent scar around my neck couldn't explain 
exactly what it was about the night I fell like rain 
i swear I'll jump off as soon as i see the moon wain

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