I used to dance in the rain puddles,
with soaked sneakers,
the rainbow polka dots on my
umbrella bleeding
into each other.
back then,
i believed that
the world knew how
to live in harmony.

yesterday,
i went outside in the rain
with that same umbrella,
watching in awe,
the colored blots softly drifting apart in the wind,
my hair soaking wet.
i just stood there,
my stomach hollowed out,
covered in ink:
another stain the rain
was unable to
wash out.

tonight the sky is pitch black,
like soot covering the trees with Midnight’s blanket.

the clouds are spitting at the paint,
as if they are trying to put out a fire with saliva.

i’m tired of the world choosing different paint cans,
then trying to scrub it off with drops of paint thinner.

in this world,
paint is permanent.

still, we pretend the spills aren’t spreading.

as if the kids on the playground are not
using the sticks as weapons.

as if the dishes sitting in the sink
aren’t mine.

as if a paper towel can absorb
the soda someone
spilled on my socks.

because i still remember the exhale
when the curtains closed to
the day where
everyone was dressed in white
to leave,
our white squares of confetti flying,
free.

because i can still smell my old
art classroom.

because the balloon eventually will
deflate under pressure.

because eating ice cream helps me realize that
grief can taste sweet
in an empty room.

because the colors swirl around
as the memories
return in a flood.

because, by the end,
one small raindrop of nostalgia escapes the
barricades of my lashes,
my carefully-applied mascara
smearing into a
blurred mirror of
realization.