Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Speak

I'm too wrung out and dry
to speak out what I feel.
Would you mind just sitting 
here with me under the gloomy skies?
To just hold my hand 
as the rain comes pouring down,
as I try to imagine that
it too shall wash away 
not just the grime on 
my hands and feet,
but also the aches
in my body and soul as well.

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