The Weeping Sky

Thumbnail: Hurdman station on a rainy day

Thumbnail: Walkley station on a rainy day

It has­n’t stopped pour­ing since I woke up. I’m trav­el­ing through the city in my favourite hood­ie. Thinking about you and your del­i­cate wrists. The pho­tos I took of you smil­ing, always look­ing away. Wondering what it must be like in your world. Wondering if we’ll ever meet again. Wondering what you meant when you told me it’s hard to be alone when you’re told you’re grow­ing old.

I write this so I won’t have to write about you again.

Perhaps in a sim­pler world things would have worked out dif­fer­ent­ly, and you would have giv­en me a sec­ond thought.

But I have no tears in me.

The sky weeps instead.


  1. Seems like every­thing is sad late­ly.

    I am cry­ing with you. My prob­lems seem insur­mount­able some­times.

  2. Talking it out some­times gets it gone. It can be a stage of let­ting go or a stage of hold­ing on. Sometimes you just have to speak it and dis­cov­er lat­er which effect it had.

    Hope the storm front broke you thru into a new day.

  3. @Maeko — But…I’m not cry­ing.

    @Pearl — The whole “delayed dis­cov­ery” is a great idea, some­thing I’ve been try­ing to fol­low for a while now.

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