Standing on the stoop
dripping from the downpour
released from this unrelenting storm
With drenched curls plastered against my face
I wait for an answer
a sign that someone inside
has heard my pleading knock
As I stand there with clothing suctioned to me
I ask myself why am I here?
The answer thunders in my mind
as a deep-set rumble echoes in the sky
You needed a safe place
a friendly face
a loving embrace.
Ugh, why am I so needy?
I should be here with my mind focused on you
Your well-being. Not me.
A body stands behind the door slowly it opens
I hear myself apologizing for the late hour
asking if you are there
“Nope. Not here.”
I nod my head
hand over the pad of paper I have somehow kept dry in the surrounding down pour
I turn on my heel
head back into the raging torrents
loneliness engulfs me
penetrating far deeper than the rain
it is here that I see as much as I try to resist it
I am a misfit
So out of place