grey.

I'm standing in the rain. Here. Across the way, not far, really, but even the short distance stretches out long enough that I can't see the end of it without a good pair of binoculars. And it's raining a little bit harder each day. I am soaked to the core with my heart in my hand, just standing here with nowhere else to go. And my heart is slippery and slick and losing its color and getting limp and wilted. Then every once in a while I look through the binoculars and you're standing way over there, and you have an umbrella. You are dry and smiling and not cold or damp or anything. You're just okay with the world, and your heart is locked up in its proper place, sheltered and safe. You don't have binoculars, I don't think, so I'm not even sure that you know I'm here. But I still hold fast, gradually drowning a little bit more each day, waiting for you to notice me.