It’s Raining In The Capital

words fallen unto nothing

no soul there to hear them crash

void

i brush my wet hair straight back

combing my memory of the sticky thoughts

plastic bristles pushing out the toxins

only to be followed by weeds

my damp crown slumps against the used pillow

disseminating requests of slumber to the masses

“but are you ready to let this love go?”

does being ready matter anyway?

flashes of the past blur my vision

oh, what an innocent love we held

like the lilies you gave me last Valentine’s Day

rouges of silk strands tickle my nose as I weep

reminding me of the boy’s nose that once took its place

i was forced to let this love go

maybe the river will bring him back

our place on the bank will still be there, my love