Splash

Sometimes I have to get away,
to drive away,
as far as I can away,
with rain beating down on the windshield.
Every drop a memory
that I can still see
so vividly.

Images that splash so vibrantly with reflected colors that dance in the black and white.
There and gone again just as quickly as they came,
swept clean by the wiper blades and time,
making room for more to come and go.

Splash.
The spot by the lake with her.
Splash.
Quiet park at night with her.
Splash.
This car and a parking lot with her.
Wipe.
Wipe and wash these drops away.
Take me back, back across the borderline,
back when time and I were friends and the words “I’m Fine” weren’t just a cover up.

But now it’s raining harder and the drops are getting bigger, the memories digging deeper until they draw my blood that drips and falls in sync with the rain,
another slash to get swept away.

And so I drive to all my once favorite places, now marred and smeared by the falling rain and sit in silence as it all beats down.
Those perfect places ruined by those perfect eyes.

Splash.
The eyes are gone.
Splash.
If only that were true.
Splash.
The eyes get clouded by the rain.
Wipe.
With every wipe a little less remains.
Less and less yet still depressed as if I’ve already drowned and falling water is all I’ll ever know.

While I know I can never wipe it all away, I know the sun will always dry the rain and make those places beautiful again.

So now I drive
and start again to feel alive
and strive to find new perfect places.
Beautiful places with beautiful faces still untouched by rain and pain.
Until then I’ll just have to wait.
Wait and wipe away the drops that collect, and wait for the sun to shine.