you are the drizzle that pours out of my eyes,

the moisture which dissipates on my tongue,

the storm which is forgotten by scarred heads,

but not until the debris has been cleared away,

all of us, washed to gray.

under the clouds we stand shocked,

lightning frizzing in our hair.

remember when we danced in soggy teardrops?

instead of jacket-bare, 

pondering with rain dashing at our face,

nose-to-nose,

with a dying rose

pressed between our fingers.

and out of ashes arose

history to be smeared away.

during the spray,

we became an essay

of facts and points of what went wrong,

of accusing fingers and choked-up throats,

of stinging kisses and lingering fingertips.

let it choke our slender throats,

let it drown our fragile hearts,

marshes reigning with sloppy starts.

oceans thrashing with coquettish force.

the water that is never still

froze between our lips,

and steamed against our skin

and drowned us right here,

right now.

and i became the rain.

you became the storm.

we clashed in the feverish sky,

and you lashed out with irreparable voltage

and when at last it had calmed,

all that's left was sloshed cities

and blacker than black power-outages.