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.

When I looked into your eyes,
I didn't see myself,
I saw flowers.
And then you looked into mine
and saw only flaws.

You've said it before,
you don't like what you see
in the reflection of my eyes.
Maybe if I'd gauged them out,
you wouldn't be afraid to look inside.

My arm bears scars
from the day you broke my heart,
but I didn't want to remember you by that,
so I got a flower tattooed over them instead.

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.

Here I am,
making a fool of myself,
just to see you smile.

I wish you'd visit me in my dreams,
but why would you?
You never wanted to see me in real life.

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

and where he lives
his favorite color cobalt
blue, the bars he'd visited,
and the few women he went

there with. I know his breathing
when he sleeps is uneven and
the secrets that he keeps. Because
he talks in his sleep. I know

the musk he wears, and
that he hasn't underwear in his
bedroom drawers, just a bunch of
mismatched socks. I know the

pounds he can bench, his favorite
food, Indian. And who he voted for
president. I know his name. But today
as he walked by he didn't stop or say hi.