Ghosts in the Rain

November 2, 2010
Once again, I find myself dreaming.
I’m dreaming of ghosts in the rain.
Of thoughts that stray sane, and a girl without a name.
In the corner, quietly contemplating the memories
Of yesterday and before, tomorrow and the world outside
The world is waiting, calling, crying out
In a voice not unlike my own, to a girl I’ve never known.

I’ll attach your photograph to this letter,
And I’ll send it far, far away.
If I’m lucky, maybe one day it will return to me.
Covered in soot and ash, stained with blood and tears,
It will return to my doorstep on a rainy afternoon.
The same old evening, and the same old rain.
The same old dreaming, and this same old brain.
If you’re on my mind, then I just have to ask—
Who are you?

Because I’m slowly discovering, learning, exploring
The different sides of your heart, sides you’ve locked away.
And in my reflection I’ll reach out with my fingertips.
As you do the same, our hands will inch closer.
Rippling and disappearing the moment we touch,
Forever separated by an ocean of indifference.

And the puddles build up, never knowing
Never showing and never stopping.
The sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach,
It never ceases, like butterflies just yearning for escape.
The bittersweet feeling you bring when you come around
And the way you whisper without making a sound.

I’ll carve a message in your necklace,
A forgotten reminder of the feeling
That we lost in our own struggle to define
Who we are in this world
Another guy and his girl, or something more?

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