Doors - poem

It was raining pain that night,

when you knocked on my door.

But by all, no soul could have asked for more.

You were the shape of both hope and regret.

It was raining pain that night.

Sunshine for a year, the weatherman had said.

Never trust the weatherman, my mother once said.

“Son, there’s half a glass—go ahead and fill it.”

But I never told her just what cracked it.

Sunshine for a year, the weatherman had said.

Every morning, I gave you my life,

Always—always there for you to hold.

Either we were dying together,

or your hands were already cold. Yet,

Every morning, I still gave you my life.

But once, an angel’s voice was in the air:

“I told you, love, I’ll never be unfair.”

But you were. You were. You were.

Actions do speak louder than words.

It’s easy for me to shatter my dreams.

They’ve been shattered for me before.

The weatherman’s got nothing in sight—

Nothing but glass on the floor.

It rained so much pain that night.

Just like the rain, I feel this night.

If actions really do speak louder than words,

then tell me why,

Why am I now at your door?

A revised version of the poem 'Doors', which I uploaded on Jan 5, 2009.

@Trippy4U Thank you, Richard, for leaving a comment there recently. This is the first non-AI work I’ve shared in many years. Felt like the right door to open for just a bit.

The image is AI-generated.

DD
Thank you @Malintra-Shadowmoon, for featuring this. It's a very pleasant surprise.

Keep encouraging people.