“Bones - the kind you find buried on a beach”

Rain falls to the bottom
of an empty sea.
All the bones
begin to tremble
like the hesitations
deep inside of me;
Bleached;
Burnt;
Bones;
Because what still lives
can only change.
Like a dreamer that has fallen out of love
with just the sound of thunderstorms—
I still long to become
the rain
falling down.

narrative poem written on 04-14-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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