you don't have a name

You are like the rain,

With its small toes seeping
through cracks and walls
of spider web.

Your grip sustains me like
the way bees do with flowers.

I feel your sweat drip through me
holding
rain between my body of ice.
Melting me
with your hands.

Your weakness molds me with each
hurricane.

Each drop opens,
opens like an eye
of a rose.

Your strength unlocks my fingers, unfolding
my clasp to reveal the smallest warmth.

I wonder what it’s like to be
in your silence
where the drizzle is louder than thunder.

Joshua Berida is an Internet marketer who lives in the Philippines. He writes for a living for free. He has been published online and in print in various magazines. His blog: http://theblurbismyword.blogspot.com.

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