words fall like rain leaving puddles of ink on my page
unshielded, droplets swell drinking warm wet salt
liquid pearls cling down my cheeks and drip off my chin
splashing tears that dash and dart pushing the edges of my pen
random alphabet grow disfigured on white paper turning grey
seduction and avoidance play along lined paper
a solo drop quivers isolated
vulnerable and exposed another flood of tears are wrenched free
salty droplets ride piggyback like caffeinated monkeys on ripe banana trees
clumped letters stretch across grey soggy paper
heavily soaked with emotional weight
meaning evaporates leaving behind streaks of salt
stiff thin white paper softens into wavy fabric
I sit at my desk and stare out the window.
It’s raining outside.
It’s raining inside too.