Weatherman

In my heart’s overcast chambers, a shadow dwells.

To open the guarded gate is to gamble.

Maybe my fears dissolve into light.

Maybe my sensitive skin is scathed.

If I let down the walls I built to protect,

Maybe the sun permits me to bask in its rays. 

Maybe the rain falls upon my tongue to quench my thirst.

But what if it won’t be so tender?

I am no weatherman.

Maybe a storm brews.

The UV too strong.

My heart, hot and red.

The rain unforgiving, 

hardens what was once soft.