Ninth floor
A love that is nevermore
Gusty sighs
Bruised and blotchy skies
Silver tears of rain
On the windowpane
Mirror my own
Not so silent as the phone
But with pissed off thunder loud
A cumulonimbus mascara cloud
Leaking and streaking
Down gray puffy cheeks
With flashes of lightning
Beautiful and frightening
Points an electric finger and finally speaks
Andrew Dabar