#5

Her legs collapsed beneath her as the whole of her weight fell upon the edge of the bed.

It was raining.
Lightly.
Tapping on windows.
Tapping.
Saying, "hello little girl."

Her back to the window; tears falling on her toes.
Her dress lying gently on her thighs; soaking up the wretchedness of dark corners in dimly lit hearts.

She pressed her elbows into knees and her face into her hands and her tears into her palms and her thoughts into heaven.

The room was filled with the grayness of the clouds and the scarlet of a broken heart.

I don't know why she was crying.

Maybe for a boy. Maybe for a man. Maybe for love or death or the death of love.

But I suppose it doesn't matter here.

I must be going now. I will help her answer the rain.