Hating the rain

 

by Mary Nestlie Denosta

The cloudy skies are up again,

cold breeze of the wind consume me,

drowning from oblivion and shattering pain,

grieving and sobbing tremendously.

I am hating the rain, 

that washes and kisses the stained glass window I'm in,

forcing to enter my colorful room,

and trying to win back everything I fall.

I will never love the rain,

for it only reminds me of you,

I wish the drops would come to lessen,

to forget the sweet  memories we both shared before. 

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