Floating

The rain comes rushing down. I stand in the dark and let it wash over my face and naked body. I feel clean but useless. All used up and tossed aside. I feel like an empty plastic bag caught in a storm drain or an old newspaper full of outdated knowledge.

My skin is prickling and sore. My heart is getting cold. I can feel it shivering in my chest. I would light a little fire behind my eyes but I can't reach far enough inside. I can't get these matches to strike in the rain and the piles of wood are all wet. Nothing will catch. Sparks fizzle out and rivlets run down my side.

There is nothing to hold me tonight. Only the rain soaking my skin. The mist settles around my shoulders like a gossamer shawl. The pools rise up to meet my ankles. Raindrops kiss my cheeks. The wind strokes my hair. My secret name is out there somewhere but I'm trapped right here as the water rises to cover my lips.

I drown for fun and profit. I drown for myself. I drown in myself. I watch for waves to come up over the hills. I watch for the rivers to take the land away. For the ocean to break from its shores and come for me. I was looking for a fire but found the bottom of a lake instead. The water up over my head and my vision all blurry.

My mouth opens to reveal a forest of seaweed and little fish. I am the drowning part of love. The world when the icecaps melt. Pearls are my eyes. Silver scales are my skin. My heart has turned to coral. I am home to spit bugs and fat trout. I am running through forests and between continents. I am little ponds of marsh weeds and massive bodies stretching over rushing rock.

I am the drowning sort. I do not look for absolution but only the drip dropping pattern of splitter splatters against the window to let me know I am real and my voice has not silenced in the thunderstorms of your heart.