Sometimes—when it’s raining and when
the sun is barely peeking through
cumulonimbus clouds, the atmosphere feels right
and wrong at the same time.
it’s inexplicably comforting,
but ******* awful.
And I listen to popular songs from the 90’s—
British artists with sappy lyrics about a lost love, occasionally
of a growing love, and dreams of new beginnings.
they’re totally corny, but I like them.
I guess.
Maybe, I’m just being delusional-
hoping for you to fly back to me, or
perhaps descend from the rain clouds and
land in front of me, forgiving me.
I told you that I was done.
Regret ran through my veins instantaneously.
I told you that I loved you though, my chest felt
empty and cold where my heart used to be.
Monday, everything seemed perfect.
You looked at me with those chocolaty
brown eyes. And my soul latched onto yours
connecting on unimaginable levels of actualization
described by the lyrics of those 90’s love songs.
I’m lying awake right now,
it’s been a long day—things are starting to
fade along with daylight.
Things?
Things that made me love you that way I did.
Suddenly, the skies are as dark as they are
going to get for the night. The cold in my chest
drops temperature, the emptiness is subdued by
my restlessness and late night thoughts.
I just want to sleep tonight.
Sorry again for today, by the way.
I sound passive because I don’t know what
to do at this point and I’m thoughtlessly
writing about you every few minutes to
figure out how I’m going to make this up to you.
But for right now, I’ve lost you again.
Yesterday, I begged for you.
I knew I’d been childish—you were just done
I wasn’t sure how we even got to that point
Again, but I knew it wasn’t going to end well.
Again.
Because at the time,
I was done too.
Only if I’d not been such a ***** that day last week,
Perhaps we’d be on better terms.
Happy even?
I think so.
I would say so.
Until now, I had not given much thought
To how much I needed your love.
To me, it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.
You were the best thing.
