Rain

On a day like today, inside the house and under the covers, in the dull afternoon light I lay still, I lay motionless, waiting for a sound, but there is none--none but the pulsing of my heartbeat in my ears. The rain will fall each day, the roads will flow with sky water and drain into the cracks. It's always warm in bed, with you, and anywhere else seems foreign and unwell. I'd rather be the one who loves and loses, than the one who would never love at all. For love and loss is life -- the extravagance of breathing in and out. In the middle of the day, with no where to be, with no one to know, or to see, with no words to understand; Just the language of your hand upon my hand, your head resting beside mine. It's not the wind that I hear, it's the rain. It comes down on the roof, and in our heads and in our hearts, and we both just lay and wait for what we will do. You are always here, with me.