Right As Rain
By Anne, age 18, Florida
God, I wish it would rain ...
Thought is so much better when it rains.
My soul has gone missing, I noticed.
It hides, shivering, beneath the scarred pink paint ...
My thoughts turn West, to what lies on the horizon,
the fiddly bit that at dusk is neither pink nor gold.
Perhaps I am there, nonconforming to the traditional evening hues.
Slip on something more comfortable than my latest emotional wardrobe.
While reality is a beautiful but terrible thing.
Not sure why I wrote that,
not sure what it means at 2 in the morning.
I prefer to tread through fiction, it's peaceful there
and something haunts me here,
his pained face gasping for breath
it isn't real ... but I love your eyes.
And guess what?