Rainfall blurs in, I ghost out.
A jasmine candle turns liquid
as time melts, sweet and hazy.
Orange flame flutters, its glow
seeping into the dusky bedroom
where I fake sleep, wet nails drying,
clear coat, fists cracking softly
open like fresh pale rosebuds.
The roses outside skitter vine
tendril against my windowpane,
tapping hellos on my forehead. 
Waiting for reprieve, I curl up,
migraine sizzling, restless, heavy.
In my backyard view, there is a rabbit 
warm and safe from the storm beneath
the garden swing. Her red eye
beckons me, stepping stone,
to crawl from my burrow, follow
her away, to whirlpool into dream.