We look at storm clouds through the window side by side And all you can see is storm clouds I see metaphors in everything But you really don’t It’s just finished raining and the sky is a dim murky gray I point out the beautiful raindrops on the window pane, my favorite sight All you say is: Yeah, so? I see beauty in the littlest things But you really don’t You have never complimented me on anything other than my looks You only ever tell me I’m pretty when I have make up on You barely look at me in the mornings When I wake up with a natural unpainted face Sipping my tea and reading You’ve never read a single one of my poems And whenever I cry about anything no matter how serious You make an excuse to leave You order me a salad every time we go out to eat Without even asking me first You never let me drive your car But you toss your stoner buddies the keys every other day You use the words music and noise interchangeably You call me overdramatic a couple too many times And it is getting old Not funny anymore Well, actually it never really was And yesterday I bought a pretty rose for our apartment’s kitchen table After you finally came home from work You stripped off the thorns The ones I left on purposefully Then right after You whispered a very hollow and cold: I love you You kissed me with my hand in yours Ran your thumb along the skin on my knuckles And told me my skin was too rough and dry One of my many imperfections that I am most sensitive about You told me to go put on cream before you held my hand again Is that what you are doing to me? Stripping off my thorns? So that, Derek Is why your things are all packed up and left outside our door Because unmetaphorical you Who never REALLY got me Who never REALLY liked me Who CERTAINLY never loved me Couldn’t handle my emotions And tried to change me to fit Your perfect little image of me in your mind Calculating, icy, stone frozen rocky you That I thought was so wonderful for the longest time Are getting kicked out of MY apartment today There is supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight So I can play a little of my “noise” While I watch storm clouds And see more than what they are literally, But what they mean symbolically Not wear make up without feeling too ugly for you Look at beautiful raindrops on the window Drinking tea and reading NOT eating salad Writing poetry that you won’t refuse to read Because you won’t even get the chance to say no Since I won’t be inviting you to read it Be as thorny and overdramatic as I feel like Cry if I want, without feeling like I’m being a burden to you Making you uncomfortable Make my world of metaphors that I live in And buy a new rose And KEEP the thorns