Scar Tissue

You think you’re gone, but you should know better.

I see you in the wood chips on my window sill.

Ragged pieces of your soul;

Working hands, turning everything they touch into something beautiful.

I see you in the rain collected in puddles on the curves and scoops in the sidewalks.

It makes sense, you know; that rain gathered in uneven places reminds me of you.

You were always in the uneven spaces of my life.

That’s where you liked to be.

You poured down heavy from above and filled all my empty holes with your being.

But then the sun came and everything dried up and the storm clouds disappeared.

There I stood
Crumbling and alone
Cracked cement wishing for the rain to fall.

May, 2014