You, I, and she wait
in the car for our
story to change.
It’s rainy, always rain.
The chill bites
to the bones like
starving hounds,
and we wonder how
long we’ve been sad.
You mention
that our melancholy
is merely a reflection
of all we haven’t
experienced
or been.
When I try to write
it down, you remind
me that we cannot
be held by poetry
because our existence
evades everything
about the self.
She’s convinced
that displacement is
easier than facing
remorse alone, and I agree,
especially in the winter
when nothing feels right
and wrong has carved
into my skin like
the sharp snap
of abandonment.
We asked for this,
you remind me,
but she dreams
of going back where
comfort feels ghostly
and stolen
because at least
it remains within
the quiet abode
where our rawboned
roots grow.
You claim to know
everything about after.
She can’t be dissected
from the past, and
I am only this moment
when rain soaks through
the windshield
and heals
our vacancies,
dripping
from eyelashes
like tears of solace
because we have finally
been uprooted
from the terracotta
where empty promises
wilted into settling for less
than the blossoms
of all the love
we had carelessly given.
In memories
that never seemed mine,
she clings to bittersweet
fables about a girl
who didn’t know
how to build her own
castle but made the best
of grief she inherited
from a heartbroken queen.
I ache within
the tragic loneliness
of self-preservation.
And you harbor hopes
for tomorrow
that border impossible.
Upon which splintering
skull does this heavy
crown rest?
Entangled, we fight
against our own hearts
and minds.
Hours have never been
so convoluted
yet true.
And although poetry
cannot hold us completely,
we must try.
You, I, and She emerge
from the liminal shelter
letting this storm
memorialize our story,
and the rain, always rain,
reunites missing
bits and pieces
until we can finally confess
to the weeping sky
that the burdensome crown
rests above a lonesome,
unwavering brow.
We become the rain,
droplets reintegrating
into the very body
whence they were born,
a final dance of the downpour.
We have always been.
***
This poem is part of a collection:
About the Creator
Sam Eliza Green
Wayward soul, who finds belonging in the eerie and bittersweet. Poetry, short stories, and epics. Stay a while if you're struggling to feel understood. There's a place for you here.
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Comments (33)
Stunning take on the kaleidoscope of selves that we are. Congratulations for your win 🥰
This is wonderfully written. You can feel the inner struggle. Congrats on the win!
Absolutely breathtaking. Thank you so much for sharing this. I felt it in my bones.
life is on going process, dear. love this poem. best wishes.
Beautiful. There was so much wrapped in the lines of this poem. A journey of emotions spun through verse
Congratulations on your win!!! I feel like I haven't the words to review poetry. Poems just cut straight through words and hit me on a deeper level. This did the same. It's raw, impactful, and feels very much like a glimpse into something quite personal indeed. Thank you for sharing with us.
Lovely poetry, filled with an entire life, love, and heartfelt musings within the story. Congrats on your win.
Gorgeous poem, congratulations!
Congratulations on the win! Beautiful poem :)
Stunning poem Sam, congratulations on the win. 🎉🙌
Gorgeous! This is a winner for sure! Congratulations!!! 💫💞
Absolutely beautiful, you've truly captured that moment when resistance turns to acceptance.
Congrats! Beautiful poem!
Truly captivating. Congratulations on your win
Congratulations on your win!! Very deserving.
Oh my goodness. This is fantastic. Congrats on the well-deserved win.
Congrats on winning first!
Congratulationson on a well deserved win!
You crushed my soul! Congrats on 1st place!!
Incredible.
We raise our faces in the rain Drinking in the sorrowful tears Over all that could have been Always the rain Beautiful, melancholy and deep. Great job.
I like the collection of selves; not compartmentalised as such but an ackowledgement that we are many things and that only we, ourselves, know who we are. "...lonesome/unwavering brow..."I liked the vulnerability of this line but also the strength.
You found the perfect image to go with this. <3
Beautiful, and I loved the lines: The chill bites to the bones like starving hounds,
This was very beautifully written