Paris in April

Teardrops drown the streets of Paris
As April mourns with aching heart,
She echo's the hurt, the aching sadness
Of a life, a marriage, ripped apart.

Alone in the city, I welcome the gloom,
Glad of the showers drenching my skin,
Bitterly chill, superficial discomfort
Brings merciful solace from torment within.

My destination, a quaint pavement café,
The long ago venue where I first met you,
Arriving alone, I'm stricken by guilt
At the damage I've done to a love that was true.

Sitting in silence, I watch through dead eyes
As people rush by, rain quickening their pace,
Calmed by the chaos, I drink in the memories,
But this spot, once ours, is the loneliest place.

I regret all I've done, my decision to leave,
The cruel words and deeds that severed our ties,
The bitter tirades, the shouting the fights,
My adulterous acts, the deceit, the lies.

Rain beats the pavement, drumming a pulse,
Thumping out sorrow and searing remorse,
April, once kindly, now darkens around me,
The world crashes inward with shattering force.

So Paris, this April, must share all my sorrow,
Sobbing in tune with my broken heart,
The showers, the storms, reflections of grief,
She mourns with me as my world falls apart.