When it Rains

When it Rains

Only when it rains do I remember what the world has almost crushed completely out of me.

That I wanted to be a writer

And when my family drove landscapes were stories

and words were weapons that let long haired heroines fight or flee

I remember waxing stories in my head

About houses


surrounded by a jungle and a garden where fairies could sleep

With white shutters and windowboxes

You could dip a pen into my head and

write until you died and you wouldn’t finish using all the ink of ideas that I thought.

Only when it rains do I remember that witches was a delicious rebellious feeling

and that crunch of leaves under my boot could just as easily be followed by the swish of a cloak as I thought of magic spells.

And I remember learning that a bad guy wasn’t always a bad guy because they wanted to be.

I used to think I could be a writer

Before the world crushed me with stones the size of houses.

and smashed my head against the wall until my thoughts were dangerous and that a bad guy didn’t sound like such a bad person to be.

Only when it rains does the world seem soft.

Only when it rains do I remember that I never used to be this sad.

Original Poem


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