i’ve always preferred rainfall over sunshine.
maybe that’s why i preferred you.
but maybe
when this plane fell from the sky
there were no life preservers or
oxygen masks or second chances.
second chances was another way
to write paradox
second chances were inscribed
on to the back of my throat
like paintings i couldn’t see,
paintings i didn’t see until we
had been drowning for too long.
sketched in my soul were
all of the things i should
have said to you, all of the
things i could never say to you-
i wasn’t decent enough
for a second chance anyways
i’ll wash my hands instead.
this time i’ll use my blood
now,  
i hope every time you kiss her
you cough from my poems
caught in your throat
and every time you hear my name
a house fire starts in your lungs and
when it reaches your eyes you
have to pretend you don’t feel the burn
and every time you tell her ‘I love you’
you stutter from
the sound of my voice,
like an eviction notice,
nailed to your door
like the god you once believed in.
you used to plead slurred words saying
i made you okay,
i’d stand there in silence
wondering if one day
you’d notice the thunderstorm
that i really am