Rain was our favorite...
each drop had shimmered, little candies dropping from clouds
a sweetness gathering on my tongue.
The wind was cooling the heat on my back,
the heat in my heart...
days had passed without making contact
and in that time I had smiled through pain
and allowed anger to engulf me
almost to the point where my love could have become hatred
but I won't let it get that far
I sighed over the many-times prepared breakfasts
remembering the way you liked yours...
arm around me, kissing my neck
and I would close my eyes
seeing the grey sea of your sheets carrying me
I had felt safe.
I didn't know what I felt after each breakfast of now,
but smelling the ozone
and staring at the battered sky,
the candied drops no longer tasted sweet.
I wanted to hate you.
But that would be unfair.
I thought back to when I was younger...
other girls used to play with flowers,
picking off petals,
counting on each silk-yellow teardrop
to decide his love.
He loves me not...
What I wanted most were flowers,
given out of the blue, for no reason at all other than "just because"...
but not even that, really.
I wanted thoughtfulness,
to be remembered
and loved for the fact that I was even alive.
small gestures that said "I'm here with you."
he loves me not