The Rain On Monday

Written words are the only thing my mind can find ease in.

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20. April

It was a day in April that was evaporating in gloom.

Your face was covered in ivory makeup that was a shade too light for your skin.

Your pale eyes scanned the rows of sentences in your book.

Your mind was reading the facts, but with every sentence read, the last was forgotten.

Your eyes darted to mine when you felt that I was watching.

My eyes trailed deliberately to the floor, and I knew that you were smiling when you reached your hand out toward my own.

You opened your mouth to say something, probably of great importance, but instead of speaking, your mouth was left gaping, and I noticed that you saw my cuts that were left uncovered by the bracelets on my wrist.

I just sat there, incapable of taking the mere memory out of your mind.

Suddenly, you pulled your hand slowly away and let it relax on your knee.

With that sudden gesture, I grabbed my bag and walked out of your house.

And as I left, I saw a glimmer of tears in the corner of your eye.

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