Valentine

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...
the burning.

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

floating
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.
So badly.

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.
I wanted
small gestures that said "I'm here with you."

But, no.
No flowers.
Only...

he loves me not