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

Repost if you are PROUD of your thorns