it’s been raining in every dream
I’ve had since you left.
i still love it wholeheartedly.
and I really mean this when I say it,
so that the rain doesn’t have to feel anywhere near the way I did
for those 7 months.
the sound of voices is always
the memory that fades the quickest for me.
I don’t know if I am sad over this or thankful.
I do know that I’ve never been happier
in the past year than the day when
I tried to recall what you looked like
and I couldn’t piece your features together
just right anymore.
I don’t think I would wish all of this hurting
even on the person who caused it for me.
I knew you were a thunderstorm
of a person but not in that way.
I didn’t expect you to be the kind
that would deprive me of any shelter
I had within myself.
any security I felt in my own skin
would be gone in your aftermath.
my mom always told me not to fall
for any boy that reminded me of my dad.
and I don’t know if you recall the day
where I told you your hands
had always felt familiar to me.
I’ve always loved thunderstorms.
I still watch them meticulously
but I always end up in a cold sweat
and little does anyone know
that it is for fear of catching your eye color
in the clouds surrounding a lightning flash.
and little do I know
the chances of hazel clouds
are slim to none.