Rain on a Sunday
I am listening to birds singing happy songs in the rain. I opened the window because the drops knocking on the glass reminded me that you won’t come to my door. I am sitting here since and let the cold breeze come to hold my hand. I watch as they turn a little blue so I will have a reason to go back to bed and turn to the wall. I will imagine you laying behind me and let the sounds of the rain and the birds cover the silence of your missing breathing.
Sunday is never easy.
With the missing sun it’s just another day without you.