"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
Every syllable was the pitter patter of water on glass panes.

But the feeling he gave me was hurricanes on concrete.

"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
The fluidity of the liquid would fill the crevices in my mind to the very tip and remind me that I was not alone.

You do not have to read the meniscus to look deeper into my being.

"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
He formed his words and dragged them quietly across pavements, reminiscent of the deep tint of the clouds and the rumbling of thunder.

But when the sun came out,
I did not feel radiant
I felt alone.

In this version of reality, I begged for you to stay,
and I did not seal my mouth with the adhesive of a lie.
I set free the muffled confession I had caged in for 6 months
which prompted you to turn back
for a second
only.

In this version of reality, I didn't even blink,
boldly proclaiming that you were nothing to me,
only a fraction of a sliver of a passing thought
that dawned upon me on rare occasions.

In this version of reality, you were the one throwing punches,
and I was the one subject to submission
for the fear of hurting you back
was greater than my desire to protect myself

In this version of reality, you watched me walk away,
while every atom in your body willed you to grab
to reach for
to touch,
but your conscience betrays.

However, this is no made-up version of reality.
You just are
I just am
and we are just not

This is the way it is.

It's hard,
but I'll be able to accept it after a few more shots,
a couple more hits,
and maybe a line,
but as I am in a semi sober state
it is hard to believe.

Hard to believe that you chose him over me,
hard to believe you swoon around him,
and don't bat an eyelash at me.
It's hard to believe he's my best friend
and I'm letting him do this.