Groundwater

I can’t stand the sight

of rain spattering outside.

I think about you.

The drops are your eyes

and the thunder is your voice.

Do you hear me too?

My voice gets drowned out,

as I yell to you, “Please! Stop!”

You smell like flowers.

The flowers I found

with you, next to the river.

They are wilted now.

Maybe you can help.

Water them with your farces.

So they too can flow,

Down to the table

where earth meets rain and I meet

you - I don’t want you.