Women 101

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Gentle rain. Sweet gentle pitter-patter of sweet gentle rain.

On her hair. On Mine.

The door opens with a creak. Should’ve oiled it today.

The murkiness of lost memories is palpable here tonight.

Maybe it’s the date, or maybe it’s the time.

Or maybe whenever it rains, It’s easier to remember.

Maybe when it rains, it’s harder to forget.

Well whatever the hell it is, it is here and it is now.

And the only things missing from this moment are the things that would make it complete.

You know what they are don’t you?

Its harder to remember, then it is to forget.

But you remember don’t you?

The shirt that was too big?

The heater that wouldn’t light up?

The candle that wouldn’t flicker?

The CD that wouldn’t skip?

The journey that wouldn’t end?

The pitfall around the bend?

The love that knows no bounds?

The vows that wouldn’t amount

To anything more than hollow harbingers of an impossible dream.

An impossible fate we sketched on tissues and soiled underwear.

You remember don’t you?

Our rain. Our only rain.

Misty windows and damp hair.

Hurried kisses and lazy good byes.

Long drives from hide out to hide out.

Short rides back home.

The mattress strewn across the floor

Before the heater that wouldn’t light up.

The mirror reflecting us.

The pink furniture.

The days of fantastic dreaming?

The nights of lonely longing?

Dead, buried and forgotten?

Resurrected and redeemed?

The endless dance?

You can’t remember?

I can’t forget.