Dark Brown Locks

Out in the rain, in thick, wet sheets that make the hairs on your arms stand up, he leans over the porch, staring out into the dark, cold afternoon. His face is unusually flushed from the cold, and his hands are intertwined in one another, as he leans foward, staring out into that dark, cold afternoon. His hair is matted down and dark, a lot longer than usual, the strands drooping in his eyes, but he doesn't fix them. His eyes are heavy, lined with memories, on that dark rainy afternoon, and he doesn't want anybody to know they're there, but I can see through that, all his pain, hidden behind dark locks of deep brown hair. That's what he doesn't know.