Monsoon

I wanted the wind before the storm, it was always my favorite,

So I created the wind.

I let it rage and let it roam through each part, picking up dust and throwing it through the old lead windows.

How easy I think as it moves effortlessly through and out of the house I swore I would never revisit.

Just as I secure my weak thought a monsoon travels back in and the windows slam shut.

For hours I pace, I cough, I crawl, I beg for fresh air until I finally close my eyes and surrender.

The circulation stops and the dirt settles lightly to my concede and I can’t remember the last time I felt this calm.

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