Heading Out in Skirting the Edge of Sanity

Listen to a new rain as it splatters across the window and the ground out there. Know in our hearts, it is all we can ever have. Who would take this vase of flowers out into the rain to let the plants feel one last splash as they wither away?

Your eyes say pain beneath the surface. It goes on against the rolling days, consuming our cells, our minds, our eyes. I feel a rain coming down though it is dry. Your eyes are deserts, but mine are tropic.

Separation, cold skin, silence in my world.

You’re out there. I’m in here. The track jumping the groove, pushed back, repeated small time, and your eyes always here inside.

No one knows. I can’t say it out loud.

Who will have to see the other’s obituary first?