Story-Poem

Downpour

Listen, I don’t want to go. I’ve been having so much fun, and I don’t want to leave just like that. But I have to. It’s getting late. I have homework I should start. Of course I’m not going to any parties. But still, it’s getting dark out.

And it’s raining.

But out the door I shall go with one last “Bye” and “You’re a dick”. It’s been lovely. Really. I’d love to come by more often to see you and I’d love it if you talked to me more. But for now I guess it’s fare well.

Out into the cruel world, where the darkness of the night means danger, means terror, and not the kind that sleep under the bed. Even they wouldn’t come out in this weather.

First minutes out the door, and I’m already soaked. I’m running down the hill, into Campus Center even though my trip will take that much longer. I guess I just hate the rain.

Or maybe I hate that I’m uncomfortable. Maybe it’s how soaked my jacket is, and how my laptop is surely waterlogged. How I regret leaving in the first place.

It’s probably best I left, though. I mean, maybe my timing was wrong. He did say you seemed like you wanted a friend and some release. It’s weird, I get it. Trust me, I’m awkward as hell, too.

But enough about that, it’s time to go back into the rain. The rain that, as a whole, can change a course of action, causing a person to stray so far from their intended destination. The rain can hold you back, in your shell of a house, if you don’t know how to deal with it. And even though that rain is an incredible force, the rain is not one singular thing. The rain is individual droplets, driving a whole, splattering on your glasses as you walk home, or dampening your phone making it impossible to move on.

I like to think the rain is like memories, raining down on you. And when it rains, it pours to remind you of things that you have done, things others have done onto you.

Like that first love, who left you.

Like that first death, that joined the others in eternity

Everything, reflected in each, single droplet. Raining down on you. Drowning you in grief and happiness.

A downpour of memories.

And now I’m home. And I guess I’m a bit more wiser. I still didn’t want to leave. I want to go back to you.

But all I can say for now,
is next time,
bring an umbrella.

 

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