raincity

fresh out of the plane,

weary eyed and sickly pale, 

I trudge.

deep within my suitcase, I carry a passport I don't want to show to anyone, 

even if they ask for ID. 

every time you look at me

with your soft eyes, 

tan skin, 

and a nose you used to hate, 

I mourn the loss of the love I once held for you. 

in all its glory, the new world stood before them. 

a wide expanse of green stretching out beneath their feet, 

leading sailors towards an unknown future. 

at the bottom of my bag is a book, 

lying there like a security blanket I'm afraid to touch. 

my seat feels cold as ice as I sit down in the room where not one pen or pencil is seen in sight, 

she takes the stairs, 

her heels click clacking down the hardwood steps. 

she turns the tarnished silver doorknob, 

and the door creaks open. 

before her sits a man.