Meet Me Where It Rains

went to the park, wearing your sweater
dancing over fields of mold
i went chasing the trees
the wind stole your letter
wondering if it was meant to be written

where do we go? where do we go from here?

outside your door, standing in rain
should i give this to you?
i went back to the park, ripped up the letter
and watched it swim through the sewer

where do we end up?
with the days growing shorter
convincing myself that this isn't over
the symptoms are showing that this diagnosis is sad, but true

where do we go? where do we go from here?