On rainy days,
I feel lost when
you are not here.
I gaze out the window,
watching the rain
soak the world outside.
The trees sway in
the cool breeze,
and all I can
think about is you.
Yes,
on rainy days,
I feel like I'm 17 again.  
Starving my bones,
and staring at my phone.
Waiting for your message,
"Come over, I'm waiting".
I'd pull on my jacket,
and walk a few blocks
down the street.
Butterflies in my belly
the whole way there.
Yes,
on rainy days,
I think of you.
I think of the first time
you held me in your arms
while the rain washed
my sorrows away.
You held me so close,
I knew you loved me,
before your lips spoke
a single word.
I was yours.
You were mine.
Our eyes told
each other everything.

When you say that
I am better than him
You are forgetting that
He and I are both grown from
The same sandy soil

We may have sprouted differently
But to write him off is to
write me off too
As if my roots
and my stalk
and my flower
are not one

Well friend,
The most beautiful flowers have
The deepest roots
Mine, are intertwined with his
(Though I do not need him
to thrive)
Our stories, can not be separated cause
We've been through the rain
and mud
and beating wind
together

Even if we
flower in
incongruous seasons
neither of us are
better or
worse or
less full of life

How can someone with
the same ***** soul be
unworthy of my time?