i texted you at
six in the morning,
"im sad"
and then we laid
with our seats
reclined
all the way back
parked outside
your apartment
for three hours,
laughing at the lyrics
to all the songs
we loved in high school
before you asked,
"oh yea,
by the way,
why are you sad?"
and i didn't know what to say
because i had forgotten
all the reasons
or
they just
didn't matter anymore

A bench. A lonely bench I found in the park, isolated from the rest of the scenery. Shy, hidden from the rest of the world. Out of sight.
Perfect.
   It is wet from the heavy rain pouring down on us both, and, still, I sit on it. I take out of my pocket a little poetry book. It's pages barely staying together. I open it right on my favorite poem. I read it over and over again, even though I already know it by memory.
   I read and read, staying always fixated on the same page, on the same poem, always on the same bench under a never ending, heavy rain.


   A playful dog found its way into my hideout. It has no collar, no leash, no bonds to anyone or anything. It sniffs my hand. It looks up at me. It barks. It leaves.
   He didn't find anything worthy of its attention. Just an old man sitting on a bench, with some wet paper in his hand, blank and unreadable. Lifeless.

   Everything lifeless.

I wrote you a poem
Titled it gravity
For your lack of it
And how that made me want you more
Called the scars in your eyes stability
Those were the only things that remained
I am looking for sand to set my anchor on
This is how i just keep sinking
But you
You were fluidity in motion you were the
Once a week reminder that
Typhoons hit and people change
When my moods were changing tides
On the days my speech was so rapid and my eyes so clear it made everyone want me
Atleast thats how it appeared to me
But for the days when my arms drag me out to sea and you have a hand over these fists begging me to let go of these ******* bricks as you kick
Afraid ill drown us both
And i would
If it werent for the flight in your smle keeping us up
Afloat
I pray you dont drop me for the wight of us both can be too much for you to carry

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,
    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.