i was made for the rain
i was created with the intention to sing in thunderstorms
to smile drenched in heavens tears
to stand with hair dripping
sopping wet
soaking the plush carpeted floor of your ninth floor apartment
which was new to you
as was my sudden lack of sarcasm
and my quick breaths
shaky hands
quivering lips
worn out eyes
my tears that did all but dry
you wept
at the sight of me
i was always an ugly crier
you hugged me
a small gasp escaped my mouth
you whispered comfort into my ears
the pain of all the yesterdays left me
if only for a moment

She said people were seasons,
and when I first met her, I couldn't agree more.  
After getting to know her, I wished that I didn't.
Her ex-lovers were Winter, and her eyes were a shade of Spring.
I could see the vulnerability of a car crash
swimming in each fountain trapped behind her emeralds.
She was beautiful in the way that could cause suicides,
and fix spider-webbed windshields after each collision of,
“Are you okay,” and, “I’m fine; I promise.”

Every story was Winter, and she was always left alone in the snow.
Mauve lips mouthed words that silently whispered,
"When is this too much? When are you going to leave?"

People are patterns,
and all she knew was the tessellation of temporary love and permanent loss.
Her hands trembled as she looked down.
She was in transit; moving after each hope of home fell apart.
And I wanted to kiss her like the world was falling apart.

Fly high, Oh, Yellow bird,
Fly so high that you are among the few
Who go beyond lesser mortal’s vision
Far towards horizons new.

Climb heights that no one imagined
Spreading your wings with all the might
Reach new places that the world knows not
And touch the stars that glare at night.

See new world with your own eyes
Feel the joys that to others are foreign
Make new friends and start new trends
Let your charm on the world reign.

You may sometimes feel tired
You may at times stall
Your strength may cease too
When cold winds befall.

Yet, stop not, Oh, Yellow bird!
Hard metal is what makes your spirit
So sweat not the tall obstacles,
The sky is your limit.

One day you will make history
And be etched as a timeless being;
With time will emerge a spirited storm
That is yet in the brewing.

And though the wind beneath your wings
Did help you carry through,
The victory will be truly yours
For you are the one who flew.