No one is there

Rainstorms

I can feel the soft rains of the thunderstorm beginning to fall.

The soft mist of water collecting on my eyelashes; on my face, as I lean my head to it's sky,

It starts  so soft its hardly perceptible.

But once you notice the tendrils of moisture that cling to your skin it begins to hit you all at once.

The drastic shift from the humid warmth to the cruel onslaught of the cold hard rain.

It washes over you so suddenly you can't breathe.

You can't face it straight on anymore; you tuck your head and you run.

But even after you're under cover, and you're in the clear from the sudden rush of emotions you'd buried so deeply before,

You stand there shivering from the storm soaking in your hair, your clothes, your skin.

The ghost of things you thought were over stirs in you and stays.

The past isn't something you can burry, It's not a rainstorm you can outrun.

You carry that weight forever,

I still remember what songs you showed me.

The way it felt to cherish them with you,

The way I mourn you when I hear them now.

You don't just stop loving someone because you need too.

If you've ever loved anyone at all you know how they nest deep in the hollows of your bones.

How their voice is carved in the corners of your brain.

The rain can't wash that away.

It just cleans away what I used to hide.

The storm exposes how I was formed from every persons little piece.

I am a puzzle of pieces from everyone I ever held dear.

Even after they leave I have scars with your name on me.

I will never shake the way I molded myself for you, and everyone after, and everyone before.

When you scoop yourself out to please everyone you are left with just the bits you picked up along the way.

The rain will never wash you all away. It just shows me how little of myself there is left.

C.G.