Rain

on the bar. Clinging water mars, any hints of what I had, because of what I became. Rain, you are me. Shake the memory free, can’t squelch the molten soul. Can’t chase away the hole.
I have buried you. Every place I’ve been, you keep ending up in my shaking hands. Rain, sound the alarm. The sting, my broken arm. The faintest violinist buried in my gut. There are chances and choices, but sometimes you just have to cut.
I have buried you, every place I’ve been. You keep ending up in my shaking hands.
I have buried you, every place I’ve been. You keep ending up every place I am.

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