Fickle Raindrops

the silence listened. as it's given to do. lingering between us. ripe with choices. moist with intent.

broken circuits against the endless loop of the thought. lies told by flesh and bones. no need for voices.

severed skin on its tedious loans. the price of how. steeper still.  none the richer for the risks.

 the horizon bent as she approached. angles and crevices chewing on her edges. gone too far to get back. still dangerously close.

empty beds undone like zippers. teeth that can't bite. places that can't be found. the lies that keep us closer somehow.

it rains. sober and selfish and loud.

it rains, but nothing is wet. because gravity doesn't venture that far down.

it rains. in shallow cuts and in deep wounds. the difference negligible.

 the length of the bridge was unknown to her. but the depths below it quite familiar. places to be. nowhere to go. spun by the impotent authors of our dwindling dreams.

the chaos spent. the panic paused. words spoken. and touch not withstanding. damnation is paradise enough for the time being.

there were pictures. she took them. there were places. she went. a vague economy of want overtook her. and she almost wished it could hurt once more.