On a cloudy day,
in the middle of May,
I wrote to you just to say
that I miss you.
I wonder how you are,
what you're up to,
and if you still take
your coffee the same.
I thought about calling,
but the sound of rejection rang
in my ear and lingered long enough
for me to forget what I'd even say.
I'd probably ask for closure knowing
that all I really want is to hear
your voice again;
to be reminded that it's okay.
I know that it sounds weak,
But the truth is I don't hate you,
and I hate myself for saying so.
But what is the point of a day of rain
if you can't hold the one you love most close?