It rained today and I thought of you. I thought about all the days we have spent together, and yet I have never once seen you in the rain. I wonder if you even like the rain, or if you would be the guy running to your car for cover in the parking lot after the cinema. Something about the rain reminds me of how effortlessly you put me to ease when my mind would stir. The way you could put my insecurities to sleep as we talked about the future and shared secrets that I could only fathom telling to you. And even the scent that the fresh rain leaves on the ground after the storm passes, reminds me of you. Like the way the essence of you lingered on my body after we got out of bed, clinging to me like that was the last thing I was really good at. But as the sweet, sweet sound of the rain quickly turns violent, threatening to pour it brought me back to you just as quickly.
Did I mention how much I hate the rain?
this is not a poem about the guilt of a privileged disorder, cause I was often told that I was selfish for an uncontrollable force coaxing me to stick my fingers down my throat
yesterday, just being there with you, just being in your arms, i don’t know. It just felt like you never left.