Drops of Rain

A few samples from the book..

The coldest day in April, outside the sun shone.
I looked into your eyes facing my darkest fears.
Inhale, exhale the battle begins.
Caressing your chest, holding your hand.
Breathe, just breathe.
Who is more afraid you or I?
An unknown journey to a living being.
Yet, in time it’s where we all shall be.
Impossible for the naked eye to see.
Clouds will shortly open, admission with no fee.
Breathe, just breathe.
Reality now storm ripples my mind.
Moments away you shall close your eyes.
Mine remain hollow remembering our time.
Breathe, just breathe.
Exhausted and frail a shadow of what was.
This image tattooed beneath my eyelids.
Whispering your name for the last time.
Darkness descends, plants itself in my chest.
Thoughts of what could’ve been tug at my heart.
Breathe, just breathe.
Your body now defeated heavens shall open,
It’s a silent soul deafening sound.
No hiss escapes your lips.
No movement, rise or fall.
Allow me to breathe onto your lips.
Please, please, I don’t need them.
Just a few more, just one more.
I can’t let go of your hand.
Breathe, I can’t breathe.

Hair flutters against the wind,
Arms wrapped around her body,
Comforting her swinging swaying self,
Standing at the place we called “our spot.”
Eyes absorb the vision ahead.
The brightness of a new sunrise.
Always different than the day before.
Thus, far still feels the same.
Shades of vertigo, hues of blue.
The wind roars challenging waves.
It wails and howls equally pained.
Their tenacious battle to and fro.
Aiming to reach an inch further to shore.
The closest to heaven one can ever be.
This place, this rock, our spot.
It now holds a different meaning, it’s beauty shredded by grief.
Oh, my love where do I look for you? Where shall I go?
Desiring foresight, a forecast, a vision or even a plan.
Blinded with the word called numb.
Waves bellow, perform for my despair.
I now understand why it’s called – mourning.

Restoring calm and equilibrium.
Sharp alignments between thoughts.
Maximum intensity ebbs to turmoil.
Flavour leaving bad taste in my mouth.
Antagonistic battle between mind and spirit.
Impediments delayed, solutions obsolete.
Famine dwelling with beats of the heart.
Tough choices only two evident options,
Stillness of death or combat with madness.
Window shopping into the lives of others,
the grass is always greener, isn’t it?
Finding shortcuts avoiding the deluge.
No clear route, no white tunnel to follow.
Take communion, kneel and pray for rain,
wash away to cleanse the mind of pain.
Aiming to find a seven-coloured rainbow.
Motionless, the cue of uninterrupted thoughts.
Squinting eyes pressing firmly upon your temples.
Anticipating the angst to cease or at least stop.
Opening my eyes from the darkness to a clearer view.
No closer to where I started idling to get through.