I turned out all of the lights, started a scalding shower, and sat in it with my eyes closed when he left. It was something I needed- the darkness, the sounds of the delicate water being rushed through the pipes to hit me, a moist warmth. A forced return to the womb of the maker.
A warm night rain simulated to match the heaviness of my heart. The rain swaddles us into our caves of existence; it makes us scamper like rats in what momentarily doesn't feel like open space. It curves the anxiety of possibility of contact if I use it to my advantage.
The open space belongs to me and I can see it when I shut my eyes: I'm walking through a lush forest in a light drizzle. My hair and clothing make a fleeting attempt to repel the droplets before surrendering to its persistence. I'm alone. I'm alone with my curiosities and my keen ability of observation.
The rain soaks into the skin of the trees and the crust of the earth creating a brilliant contrast in the warm ethereal void.
