the rain that cried

Your worries are the raindrops

blurring my windshield

while I’m trying to drive home.

Within the cerulean blue iris of your eye,

each tiny fleck holds a tiny picture

of something you tried not to remember.

If you close your eyes,

all that you will see is those tiny flecks

of tiny pictures.

So you keep them open, your eyes,

so wide.

And they rain. All over me.

Making it hard for me to see.

We will go blind this way,

so lets keep holding hands, at least.

Maybe your worries will go away

and with them, the rain.