Drops of Water

Cold,
How long have I been standing here?
Why do I feel so cold?
Standing way over here.

How did I get here?
Out here in the rain.
I am still in uniform,
so what am I doing here?

I stand here on a walk,
the rain coming down.
So I am at home,
in my feelings did I finally drown?

No,
The pain in my shoulder is still there.
Yet out here I stand,
is anybody there?

A face in the window,
inviting more pain.
This pain is different though,
it comes from the scar that does not hide from the rain.

She is looking out at me,
yet does she actually see?
There are tears streaking her face,
trailing down those cheeks, leaving barely a trace.

Yet does she actually see?
I raise my hand in greeting.
Yet she turns and fades,
and I willingly try and follow.

I raise my hand once more,
only to pass through what was the door.
Perhaps than this is just a dream?
I no longer have to worry about the pain.

Yet, its still there,
born out of something within.
I pass through the door,
to step further within.

Crimson,
it covers the floor and window.
The steps lead up to her room,
how I know this, I don’t know.

Yet there at the top of the steps,
the sound of sobbing.
I pass once more through a door,
and my head starts its throbbing.

Crimson,
yet on the bed she sits.
Crimson,
coming from two deep slits.

The pain in my chest returns,
for she looks up and sees me.
I hear the words once more,
her words of sorrow.

She thought I hated her,
for what she had done to me.
How can I tell her now?
Now that it is only me.

Her eyes widen in fear,
for the fact that I am now there.
I allow a smile to show,
for we were like the snow.

We were cold at first,
but we melted with each others’ heat.
But when we saw the core of the other,
we realized that we had the same thirst.

The slits are now covered,
her eyes widen with surprise.
How long she has felt like this,
a hatred for her choice.
But to cross over,
that is something that I am only supposed to know.

Though she has dealt me so much pain,
I can deal to her no ill.
Though now I stand out here in the rain,
love is something I no longer feel.

Though she hates herself for it,
I am merely a part of life.
And though I may lack the will to do so,
my thoughts can stop the knife.

Though she hates herself for it,
I am merely nothing more.
Than the drops of water,
that fall against her door.