Down is Wrong

The fall rain smells better on the 10th floor 


The rain feels different up here


The cold railing that I hold on to, all of sudden feels like it’s slipping from my grasp 


Your arms wrapped around my waist comforts the both of us 


I’m learning and listening to the person I’ll eventually be


I’ve played this clip in my head over and over 


It didn’t end this happy, but now I see 


The dark sheets that covered my ability to live, you went ahead and tossed them out 


Something I couldn’t do on my own


They’ve lingered long enough

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allets's picture

Pretty Poem

A neato read.  A win! ~S~

              BLACK LIVES MATTER!

saiom's picture

  imho 'the dark rain on the



'the dark rain on the 10th floor' doesn't minister to as many plants and trees, birds and bees, as when it seeps into the ground


your poem is lovely



Fitzgerald's picture

Thank you so much. I

Thank you so much. I appriciate you taking the time to read it.