Rain -drops- from eyelashes,
skies tears fall, pitter patter
of Her applause to Her own audience
the road.
Standing in the night feeling for
the first time, chill wind whip through
to my bones-
cutting deep but drawing no blood.
Muted, stumbling almost as a curtain of
rain hails from grey blankets.
Water crawling through my clothes, acting
like an adhesive to my skin.
The chore of taking in air -
making my throat raw.
Anguish and confusion
hard to abate, collapsing in a
doorway with nowhere to run-
wind becomming angrier, thrusting
cold breath across my dripping form.
Possessed by shivering, weighing heavy
with wet clothes.
End of the road.
A colour cold enough to almost
make blue. Purple lips, not quite
bruised.
Motionless sleeping, through violent
storms
- If only rain were warm.




Shari
and thanks again for the comment 











and I don't know if she is from a foreign country or anything =/

I prefer rain to be cold( literally 







40 old applause
