I use to be envious
of those who say
they don’t fall in love,
of those who can control
their emotions.
But then,
what a colorless life.
I fall as hard as a tree,
every time.
A new face, a new love, a new shade
of sensation that I chase
like butterflies in a meadow.
And when it’s over,
my life feels like a storm of disappointment
only to see the sun peak over the clouds
with hope.
I used to be envious
of those who never dealt with the storms.
But then, they never got to see the sun either.