Undertheweather has become my personal rights.
I woke from Night Terrors, in physical sickness and a bleeding heart.
The blinds are a burnt orange, peeling shadows from the cracks of many sunrises.
I can see the greens of the Peonies, water drops still after last night’s thunderstorm.
The oranges slowly fade to grays, then white.
My love is ready. Those heavy decisions were folded, put away with my dreams.
My body is pain, a highway of discomfort.
I am detached from what most live.
It’s not easy, and I am aware of what I have become.
Yet, my solitude rests in a place I like it to be.
Someone once told me
* ”You’ve got to live with what you can’t rise above.”
I live with everything inside a nothingness that is beyond what is above.
Here comes the rain.
It never lets me sleep.
The colors flood into a darkness, still from mothernature’s reflection.
Today, I hope for a better ride in this weather that’s keeping me under.