Rain burst through the clouds,

ringing off roofs;

the sudden delight and despair

of a late night downpour.

The clatter of water

drowned my silence

and almost, my sadness.

 

My sadness, which

by osmosis,

had left my body

into the sky, grew arms

and melted, on return

it cuddled me close,

stroked my damp, salty hair.

 

It was the rain,

the deluge of absence,

of imagining your presence

which had me sodden,

soaked, to the bone

with questions and silence.

 

When it stopped, the world

was left with traffic again

and pavements of mistakes;

concrete glistening treacherously

like the guilt I feel

for the young woman

trying to carve a goddess

inside of me,

whilst I write about h2o

and the sadness which comes

with missing you.

 

© Kristiana Reed 2018

 

Image credit.