Water-washed, etched in skies
arms outstretched like im flying
as rain starts to pour.
The clouds are as heavy as your voice
and the uncertainty that obscures
your words; I can't miss it.
All my senses can't identify, I
have to rely on listening
- to your silence
which speaks more than you do, your pauses
and breaths, sighs and unfinshed sentences.
I stand now soaked, skies lighter
with their release while I hold onto
what I can't let go. Monotonal beep
and you aren't there, yet it was
my finger on the button.
In my own silence I'll linger with
clothes stuck like a second skin, it's
not even slightly warm out today -
It left me feeling
- Grey.
















).




41 old applause
