Melted Dreams

Rain,

It fills my soul,

it knows my words.

The momentary substance of memorial dreams.

The changing mirror of living things.

There’s a blackbird outside my window, 

but he doesn't sing. 

His golden eyes glow like horizons,  

pupils like sinking ships. 

You sit 

in the corner of my room,  

stretched thin across canvas, 

and frozen 

in your forgotten poise.