Who are you stranger?

Who are you stranger?
The one that lurks in the dark crevice of the heart.
Please go… for your presence
awakens memories of a forgotten past.

Your face cracks and dissipates
into a mass of flitting, glittering butterflies.
Its shiny disposition a carriage of my tears,
like distant stars plastered against the twilight.

I clasp my hands gently
onto as many winged memories as I could,
but only to have it disintegrate,
leaving behind my own trickles of sorrow.

This torrential downpour
this torrent of pain,
dividing us into two far off corners.
Separate shelters of our own.

Should I wait? or
Should I go?
The rain does not seem to cease,
pelting un-relentlessly onto the asphalt.

I call out till my throat is hoarse,
but you couldn’t hear,
for the pitter-patter suppressed my whispers
and the roars of thunder drown my screams.

I fevertly brush aside whatever rain I could,
shouting simultaneously, like a crazed maniac.
Hoping my voice would not be crushed by the downpour.
Could you spot them now? My acts of self-less desperation.

I cup my voice within my palms,
gently, tenderly. As I carry it across,
the rain slashing mercilessly at my back.

I am drenched to the bone,
but it is all good. For only then you cannot tell the difference

between my tears and the rain.