the sky darkens,
moves in like a lover,
and the drops beat
against my heart
like sticks dribbling
against my chest.
My soul is swallowed up
and suffocated,
weeping with the windowpane
wanting to break free,
to dip and dive,
with a drenched Icarus,
inside the gray
blanket of God.
All Rights Reserved: Elizabeth B. Wilson
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