She Lives in the Rain

No one could have loved her more than he,
perched on falls midnight branches,
carving a broken heart
through the tongues of rain
scraping away the plastic mold
to feel after years of denial.
He wondered how queer his state
this rare creature
entered his life, when the world became silent.
Her voice was there then left,
he searched bone marrow woods and forest
but she wasn’t there
he searched in the wolf shank cities
but she wasn’t there
he went to the pond that nurtured his memories,
praying for her.

Fields of bracken were gone
phantom snow evaded him
entering the crepes of solitude
her voice left his universe.

The constant became his life,
words that were shared being poured
in his tainted soul.
Now the chance to tell her his undying love.

The scarlet air abandoned
and the moon wash far away from here,
her glossy face erased from existence.

She touched the sentinel essence
under lock and key, guarded by a crimson bear
taking his place. While sleeping in blissful death
no violins are played.

A gentle whisper came back to him
Through the flurry mist war,
Tears pounding his chest,
Smothering his tender face,
Wrapped in the spirits arms

a trace of warmth pressed against his cheek,
hazel eyes staring back at him
luminescent soul glowed again
arise, arise
she lives in the rain.

– Kyle Garon


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