Saturday, May 21, 2016


It is not my friend, this rain, for it makes me dream of you.
I stand still, looking out over the water at the brightly-colored reflections of the lights from the city on the low hill behind me. In the moonless night, there is no one on the beach. Across the desolate dark sand the unrepentant waves sing their dying song while inside of the maze in my head I follow the forlorn thread of desire. In the unravelling past I never get to the end of the thread. I never get to find you. In this barest whisper of rain, I just can't get you out of my head. 

I will find my way out, I swear.
I will find my way out of this maze inside my mind.

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