LE FEU AUX YEUX

“LE FEU AUX YEUX”

BY SHEB SCHEBELLA

 There’s a silence in the rain that helps heal the pain. There’s a story in her head that’s brewing like a storm. There’s thunder outside their window and a firecracker of light bleeding down the wall and across the room in a chair sits the wreckage of it all. The arms of this nightmare are wrapped up in an empty bottle of wine and the dog on the couch is his only friend that comes to mind. She places her hand against the window so the bass moves through her cry and shakes the tears free into the storm of the night. The fire crackles but, goes unheard it’s the ice in his scotch glass that recites his slurred thoughts into words. Their stares are moving toward never, and the house shakes as nature’s cannons roar yet unstilted they both remain, so much rain yet they both claim to be the drain.  There was a beggar boy standing outside looking in at them and he must have felt so lonesome while sipping the last of his gin. He stood there in the pouring rain so statuesque holding up his chin as god’s wrath pounded down upon him; and then the lighting cracked once more as he tossed his bottle and inside a wine glass crashed to the floor, and a dainty fist smashed through a window pain, and God sang out with more rain; and there I was across the street standing in a puddle that was more than ankle deep. Insanity I thought insanity in deed, but how pleasant the rain.