Rain down on me.

Written by: Tamar Simone Weir

The first real rain of the season awakened a fierce rage within me. 

The need to do something crazy.

 I wanted my shit back finally. No more mysterious moments wondering… 

what are you thinking? 

Why are you ignoring me?

I debated under a broken blue umbrella 

If you were worth my thoughts and stomach ache

If the nasty knots in my insides would go away.

We were two wet girls in rain get up.

We put on an adventurous costume 

One that consumed our evening 

We were devoured by the empowerment in that very moment

Driving through these too small college town streets

Splashing rain in each turn onto the cars passing thru 

I had arrived.

Laurent street; the house that contained our past

Didn’t seem so different.

I knocked on your door way too fast trying to erase the frozen chest of my ice box.

I had to stop myself from stopping myself. 

Rain pouring down at accelerated rates but I did not shiver.

I felt each drop cuddled my curled tendrils in a delicious wrapping

As I tried too hard to act casual 

As I I hadn’t rehearsed on my short walk over from the car. 

I knew you’d be mean to me and I knew you’d dismiss the potency 

There’s a closure in my throat as a write this

I just wanted my fucking shit back

Why couldn’t you just fucking give them back?

You ruined the fluidity, you destroyed the fake rhythm I told myself we had. 

I wondered if you made an effort to not put my clothes in a box, bag, or container.

You handed them to me loose, and I thought isn’t this symbolic, shit. 

I carried the weight and scattered sides of cotton garments you used to wear.

I carried the cold with me to the car and you pulled out your parking spot almost hitting me on your way out.

It was a Harsh hardened haste.

I don’t want to apologize to you

I don’t want to be ruled under your conditions 

I don’t want to wait for you to respond to another text message

I don’t want to coordinate anymore 

I don’t want to receive your unfinished claims of this and that 

And I don’t want to wear our matching copper bracelets.

And I’m just now realizing it's Friday the 13th.

The first rain.