September

I stood in the rain for a good half hour
As it soaked through my black fabric case
But didn't manage to make me feel it's salty touch.

Would I have preferred it?
The irksome bother, as the moisture smothers
My otherwise unfeeling skin. And though
Cold to the touch, it's warmer than a lover's.

Well, warmer than some.

Though in some respects, they are alike.
Once it starts, you think it's constant.
Reassuring, but somewhat it seems
To blur your vision.
I find myself having to look twice
To make sure I'm seeing what's right.

Though the ground is solid,
Always has been, ever step is like
Walking on thin ice. Always scared
To make a small slip
And everything comes falling down.

In the beginning, you want to
Zip yourself up. You pull
Your hood down deep over your head
Scared to reveal yourself to the incessant shedding
Of extra drops of innocence mislead.

As time passes, you think you can trust it.
The pitter-patter which never leaves.
It surrounds you with it's transparent bedding
As you begin to undress, thinking you're well concealed
Protected by what you think will always be there
But in reality more of your weakness is being revealed
And suddenly, the rain, it stops.

You're left cold, wet, and alone.
Shaking in the feeble sunlight.
Feeling so bare.