When the rain stops

When the rain stops
I"ll still try to
remember what the
kiss we never had
feels like.

When the rain stops
I can no longer imagine
that you are stroking
my bare scalp once more.

When the rain stops
it will all be real
no more
wiping the nimbus from your eyes,
fingers innertwining,
feet resting parallel,
kicks from a growing butterfly in your stomach,
sweet scents of sunrised meals,
clothes used as postcards from memories,
no more parts of myself given for no reason.

When the rain stops
there is just the day
no person to look forward to
telling how the day went
just the day itself.

When the rain stops
I promise myself I won't call
a number I never had in the first place,
or think about introducing myself
to a person who barely knows what they mean to me.

When the rain stops
I'll still be here
stuck in place like
a bucket, with no handle
holding it together.