I Heard This Song…
They promised us heavy rain,
Instead, we got this light drizzle for five consecutive days. Not strong enough to carry the smell of wet soil into my bedroom, or to wake the craving for hot chocolate on the afternoons. Gray enough to lower the decibels, but not so colorless to demand working lightbulbs. A growing precaution that you shouldn’t abandon your bed, but a fierce betrayal that you are wasting precious time. You know, the type of rain where you don’t know how fast you should set your windshield wipers.
The soft wind carries a comfortable nostalgia, cold to the skin and warm to the heart. We are taught how to survive all the clattering and racketeering that await us on the other side of the looking glass, but not how to endure causeless sorrow. Sometimes it all seems pointless — sometimes we are not the main character. The book club has forgotten to mention our involvement in the story, in our own story.
Okay,
You think I matter less than politics.
They promised us heavy rain,
Instead, we get to hear the gentle sounds of the droplets against the glass. So, rest your head against the window seal and stare at the cage that you have build for yourself. Don’t you feel joy at feeding all those wild fantasies that remain trapped inside your past? You can almost see the mirages of your alternate lives walking and dancing underneath the mizzle. None better than the other, none worse than reality. But if you could choose one thing for all of them to share, what would you choose? Would it be your own smile, or someone else's?
I’m afraid that is all I have for myself today: the irony of feeling homesick from being locked inside your home. Yet, I bet no one will question my lack of talent if I decide to hum alongside the strumming rainfall. After all, these days are made for playing that one song on repeat.
The feeling’s gone
It’s all your fault I’m moving on.
They promised us heavy rain,
Instead, we stopped our lives for a senseless voyage to the hidden corners of our minds. Deep emotions seem to be hibernate when caught between hot, cloudless days and violent thunderstorms. These are the days that remind us of all the secrets we hold, and the pointless battles we have fought. The afterglow doesn’t seem so enticing from this distance. We did our best, and whether we like to admit or not, it was more than enough. And the hard truth? They did as well.
Hey…
You said it wouldn’t make a difference whether we can be together or not.
They promised us heavy rain,
Instead, we got a “What If” novel.
Instead, you got to escape the madness for a couple of hours.
Instead, I got to write once more.
