It rained
the first time
I spent the night in your unmade bed

It rained
the last time
I watched you turn off the lights

It's raining
and I wish it was one of those times
when you would kiss the top of my head
and wrap your arms around me
when you think that I'm asleep

I sat on your bed,
confused as to why you asked me to stay
Your sister downstairs,
left to think what she wanted

You sit down next to me,
finding the courage to touch me
Your hands move lightly,
fingertips brushing my back, my knee

Our fingers collide,
but we are feeling too much to stop
Left waiting,
the back of your hand pressed to my leg

You stare at my lips,
I realize how dry my mouth is
We both know what's coming,
but neither is brave enough to start

It won't be much longer,
you press your forehead to my shoulder
With one sweeping motion,
darkness overtakes the room

I see nothing,
but feel your mouth against mine
Three months separated,
distance finally closed with open lips

A few months ago
I was counting the days
until you left
because your lack of presence
would have been a better present
than the one you didn't give me
for my birthday this year

Every night I would wait
for the day to come
when you wouldn't be near
as if your body was in my bed
pressing down on my chest
until I could no longer breathe

Hating your best friend
will not hurt them
but it will twist your own heart
in ways you never thought possible
and you will pray on stars with fingers crossed
that it might break
or better
stop beating

Absence makes the heart grow fonder
and the tears in our blanket
and the tears in our eyes
have been thoughtlessly mended
with intertwined fingers
in basement bathrooms of bars
we couldn't find again
with a map to guide us

Tomorrow you'll leave me
and move on to adventures
more exciting
than drunk searches
for familiar faces
on streets we could draw perfectly
with blurred vision

I hate to say I'll miss you
and I hate more to see you go
but your darkness was always
darker than mine
and your light was always
too bright for me to look at
so I hope the contrast
of the rainy days and the sunshine
fills you up
in a way nothing else ever has

You were born to fly away
but never given the chance
so I hope you find
that the airplane wings
fit you just right

I hope you accidentally leave
the little broken pieces of yourself
on the cobblestone in London
and in the fountains of Rome
and do not realize it
until you return home

I wish you the best
and the same for myself
because two flowers
cannot grow
in one ***
but if grown separately
they can one day
make a beautiful bouquet

Did you call her at all,
drunk and alone in the middle of the night?
Did you tell her
she was the one you wanted?

I suggested we spend the weekend
away in the city that sleeps
as well as we do together.
You used an exclamation point
in your response
which you never do.

Why don't you talk to me
the way I imagine you do
to people you are less invested in?
I always assume you are
actually
invested
in me.

The only thing I think about
is you.

Will I ever manage
to be strong enough
to get what I deserve
from you?

I remember the first time you kissed me.
We had escaped the loud echoes of your drunk friends,
and left my too-sober roommates to wait for my return.
Your best friend ran up the stairs after I left,
I skipped down the street as the girls called after me, questioning.
I remember the smile that would not fade,
the one that gave all of the answers away.

I remember the second time you kissed me.
We drank too much wine and sat too close together
and told each other too many things.
You yelled at me to stop talking so much,
I asked you questions you pretended not to hear.
I remember the way you kept trying to leave,
but how you did not want to go.

I remember the third time you kissed me.
We got into a fight that you tried to fix
with an overnight stay in the room where we first kissed.
We didn't talk about the fight.
I told you things I'll never forget because I knew you'd never remember.
I remember the way you tried to kiss me in the morning,
and how I left, pretending I didn't know.

I remember the fourth time you kissed me.
That night, I realized we would only ever be friends
and then our hands kept touching, our legs intertwined.
You asked me to tell you everything and anything,
as you wrapped your arms around me.
I remember the way I could see you, looking at me,
out of the corner of my eye when I was too afraid to look at you.

I remember all of the times after when you kissed me.
Graduating to morning, then afternoon,
private to public, drunk to sober.
You kissed me for all reasons,
and no reason at all.
I remember the way you always smiled afterwards,
and how it always made me feel sure.

I remember the last time you kissed me.
It was too early in the morning for there to be time,
my eyes couldn't tell if the sun was awake.
I waited and waited for there to be another one,
but there wasn't.
I remember thinking of all the other kisses,
and knowing too deeply that this would be it.