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Color My Murder
Uh.
Poem 21
Restless

As the rain drops of melancholy hit my eyes
I find no solace in those skies

A quick drop of relief on my face
The tears of the sky cool my lips

And that is where my consolation lies

Though I wish it the stars
that could heal my scars

I find comfort only in the rain

And as common as those points of light are

The rain comes not nearly as often

For if the black forgetfulness,
and its glittering snow
suspended infinitely in its carefree visage,

For if that could soothe me

I wouldn't have so many
restless nights





 
 
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