Dark Shower

I stand before your locked door,

waiting to hear your emotions drizzle.

But you remain silent, leaving me outside...waiting;

under a cold wailing storm.

Under dark rain, poisoned silhouettes,

silver night dropping from once white clouds into

angry grey mist.

I leave.

My fatigued soles taste the mud that made me: it tastes bitter.

But not as bitter as your shadow watching my back as I leave.

I count my steps slowly, harmonizing with falling rain drops; my

voice fading out like dusk.

So I left, walking droopily, till the crashing sounds of splattered rain droplets

overshadow my weary footsteps.

I guess that's what brokenness feels like on a rainy day.

- ad_poet