Wind

I suppose you think of raindrops,
When I shed tears upon your shoulder
Or drip, drip upon the floor after
A shower of washing away the sin.
I imagine you ponder of rainbows,
When that brightness is taken from
My lips after the tosses and turns of
You beating away my colors.
And I am guessing that you feel the wind
When all that is left of me,
Stays tightly packed in the corner
Of that cubicle you call a world.