I envy the rain,
for it can touch your pretty face,
trace your lips,
and rest upon your skin
ever so gently,
while I was never allowed
to touch you
as intimately as it does.

I know I wouldn't be able to make you happy,
and that's okay.
But does she make you happy?
I just want you to be happy.

Somewhere, deep in my heart,
I hope you'll accidentally discover my poems,
read them,
and know -
they're all for you.

i’m trying so hard to be okay

it’s killing me to know
we will never have what we used to.
nothing will ever be the same again.
no more late-night conversations,
no endless support,
no hopeless love—
at least, not with you.

maybe it’s for the best.
there was pain tangled in you,
and i didn’t care then.
i guess i should now.

but still, the need lingers—
to tell you this,
to share, to overshare,
the way we used to.
but things are different now.
would it be wrong to say it?
would it even matter?

it feels pathetic,
writing this like i lost you,
like you were ever mine to lose.
but it still feels like heartbreak,
even though your heart
was never in it like mine was.

i think i was your priority once.
oh, how times have changed.
and sometimes, i wish i could go back—
i was sad, lonely, drowning,
but i had you.
it might have been enough for me,
but it was never enough for you.

now i try to replicate what we had,
but nothing ever fits.
it still stings when you joke
about how your friends think we’re dating,
because maybe we could have been.
but we weren’t.

i don’t love you.
but i used to.
and i don’t love you anymore—
but i wish i did.

if you ask me how i am,
i will repeat, reuse, recycle
the same phrase over and over,
slipping from my tongue
like it was the truth.

“i’m good.”
on occasion, “i’m tired.”
sometimes, “i’m happy.”
but never, “i’m sad.”

the lie is engraved, imprinted, etched,
so when someone asks,
“i’m good” comes easy—
because why would i be sad
if my life is perfect,
ideal, flawless?

but then i remember—
when you’re drowning,
it doesn’t matter if it’s ten feet or twenty.
the bottom line is,
you’re still drowning.

so maybe next time,
instead of “i’m good,”
i’ll tell the truth.
because when you’re drowning,
someone might save you.