Wet Stone

Surely enough the rain came pouring down on us, drowning her words and tears. Soon after, the angry look on her face drowned along with them. Her yelling reduced itself to an easing sigh and eventually silence.

Even before what happened, I had always found her to be exceptionally beautiful in the rain. Her black hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead while the rain blurred everything else; her deep blue eyes still managing to pierce through to meet mine. She was drenched now; her navy blue t-shirt clinging to her body. I watched as her shirt revealed the shape of her. Her breasts, her stomach, the gentle curve of her hips; it all used to be a part of me and now it was gone. 

Her lips began moving again but I wasn’t paying any attention to what she was saying. I stared at her face with a blank look, watching her lips move to form words, dumbfounded by the woman I had given up a long time ago. I couldn’t tell if she was still crying or not but I knew it didn’t matter. I had lost her once and there was nothing to find anymore.

Her voice returned to my ears “...me in.”

“What?” I asked.

“Let me in, John! Can’t you hear me?” she said with a confused look on her face. I opened the door wider and let her in.

She walked a few steps passed me and turned to face me, her shoes squeaking with each step. I shut the door and turned to look back at her. We stood in silence, relishing the quiet the closing door had brought. All I could hear were her clothes brushing up against her as she shifted about in them, searching for a comfortable position to stand in.

She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something and stood silent for a moment until saying “Look. I can’t do this again. I can’t be with you again. Things are different now. I never expected you to come back for me. Not after what you did.”

I stood still and inhaled deeply to keep my eyes from watering up. Her face was dry now and I could see a small tear making its way down the side of her nose to her pouting pink lips.

“You know I love you, John.” She paused and exhaled as she wiped the tear from her face. “It. It’s just. It’s just that I can’t trust you anymore; not after her.”

I reached my hand out to wipe another tear off of her face. As I moved my thumb across, I noticed her skin was smooth from the rain and tears. I wanted to feel her again, to hold her again, to be with her again. I tried to speak clearly though the knot in my throat. 

“But It’s been ten years. Ten years! Haven’t I paid my dues? I need you. I love you.”

I opened my arms slightly to suggest an embrace when she said “No, John.” Her tears had gone and she held her hand up to my chest in an efforts to keep me at a distance. Her eyes were locked onto the door, unable to look at mine. My hands returned to my sides as she turned her head to look straight into me before saying “Goodbye, John.” and walking towards the door.

I was standing still, staring at the spot of carpet she occupied moments earlier when I heard the door slam behind me. I turned to the door to look out of the peephole, only to find her walking slowly through the rain back to her car. I wanted to open the door and run after her in an attempt to return her to me but I knew I had to let her go. It was only fair for she had done the same years before I came back for her. I had no choice.

She stuck her key into her car door and looked back at where she told me goodbye. The angry look on her face had been replaced by one of disappointment. Staring for only a glimmer, she opened the door to her car and got in.

I watched her drive away and took a step back only to stare at the peephole I had been looking through. It was completely silent where I stood when I realized I would never see her again. I exhaled greatly and let a few tears fall from my eyes. I could feel them rolling down my stone cold cheek, warming the skin underneath them as they made their way to my chin. I stood silently at that door feeling the tears upon my face as if I were a statue in the rain; my eyes fixed upon the direction she left; eternally watching the back of her fade.

Reviews

[Willow B. Coldfeather]

The imagery in this poem is so vivid.
So much, that it seems like you're recounting a story that happened to you.
It was so moving... I could imagine everything.
I really felt for both characters.
Thank you for this brilliant poem.

[1416]

This is really interesting (a beginning to a longer story?) and held my attention through its entirety. I'm interested to see what other stories you have...well done.