Little Black Rain Cloud

Another wordlist written one. Do your thing.

You were the kind of girl
with legs that begged to be
tied down with heavy stones.
Abandoned in some
rushing river
where you could vanish,
whispering your secrets
that no one wanted
to the reeds that bent
to listen closer.
You had the grace of a swan
whenever you'd drag that knife
across you skin,
giving life to small red blossoms,
and that was the irony.
But you never had the courage
to press down.
You would chant at the sky
and pray for rain
to hide your sullied face.
Every day, a little black storm cloud
hung above your head
and I clutched my umbrella tight
whenever you came around.
Because I didn't have the courage
to save you.
They found you in a river,
giving bloom to tiny, shimmering bubbles
that floated your whispered secrets
that no one knew
to the bending reeds.