The rain pours and the lightning strikes, otherwise the world is quiet. The mist rises off of the pavement; cool rain striking the warm street and I could only watch mutely as the world was washed clean of it’s lies…if only for a moment. Sitting with eyes closed I can feel the mist sprinkling against my overheated skin, and I can only wonder where I had been hiding, and why I hadn’t found my way to this place before.
The rain feels so good; washing away my sins and pretenses and falsehoods, leaving only the bare truth underneath. The hardest part; being laid vulnerable and the fear of being found wanting at the bare bones of what makes you the person you are.
I am always found wanting.