Drip.
I land on the roof, trickle down the window,
And drop on the sill.
Intruding.
Punctuating your thoughts.
Drop.
Drip.
The phone-call, a glass, knocked.
Falling, always further than you think possible.
Doesn't break-not this time.
Water runs along the table, you chase it with your eyes.
Too fast.
Drop.
Drip.
Strangers talk at you.
Unfamiliar scents in the air,
Unlikely machines doing their thing.
Fluid being dropped into him
Too rhythmic to be real
Drop.
Drip.
And then nothing.
And the clouds spit at you and mock you.
And you can't tell me apart from the tears
You will be crying for a long time to come.
Drop.
