Between the raindrops are moments of time that contain all the memories of yesterday, dressed in colors of gray and midnight blue. And I keep wondering why my heart won't heal; why the memory of you is so reluctant to retreat from my mind.

At first I clung to the memories of our past, hoping that one day soon you would return to me. When that didn't work, I tried to bury them permanently in the graveyard of shipwrecked dreams, thinking a new face, a new personality, a whole new experience would surely keep them from resurrecting themselves in my heart.

Last night, I was sure that my screams of frustration heard even above the thunder that illuminates the raindrops (beating on the window pane of my heart) were due to my failed attempts to free myself from the chains of the past. Chains that seem to bind my soul and heart to the endless nights you and I spent together alone in each others arms. Nights that were filled with passion and ecstasy so intense, so erotic until they seared themselves upon the fabric of my heart and engraved themselves upon the tablets of my memory; affecting me in a way that left me wondering if I will ever get over you!

Now the rain has stopped and the room is silent once again and I think to myself with a sigh of relief, "Now I can finally get some sleep!" And once again, I succumb to the temptation to believe that it is only the sound of the rain that has kept me from sleeping, when in reality it is the absence of your heart beating next to mine in the stillness of the night. It is the haunting tune of emptiness that has now replaced the melody of love that you and I used to sing together as you sat close to me late at night by my piano.

Remember how the neighbors use to complain while we sang our love song together in the middle of the night because our melody had invaded their space and sometimes interrupted their peaceful sleep? Now you are gone; they rest in their beds next to the person they love, and the very quietness they now bask in as they sleep peacefully now robs me like an unwelcome bandit who has broken into my house in the middle of the night and stolen all of my dreams.

Author of Creation, Father of Love who sends the rain upon the earth, even the latter rain, please remove the moments of time trapped between the raindrops filled with memories from our yester years -- is my constant prayer. Or should my prayer rather be, "Help me to know what this all means? Help me to learn the lessons that will free me like a gazelle from my struggle and propel me into my future so that I may find true love with another?" Or should I simply ignore the sound of the raindrops that beat upon my heart, drenching me in pain and regret even when the rain is not falling and rest from my search to find another to replace you until this devastating storm subsides?

Excerpt from
THEY SAY THAT I AM BROKEN
by Internationally Acclaimed LGBTQ Author
Terry Angel Mason