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you look up from your phone and tell me it's raining out. maybe we should move today's plans to tomorrow?

walk around in the city hand in hand, when it's sunny out, when we see each other again, the way we used to.

i would decline, my words get stuck in my throat, as i sit on the couch drenched in water, with dirt on my feet. it is raining, you say, but all i see is a handful of hail stuck in the strands of your brown hair. hail that won't melt even here, in my living room. it is not raining for you as it is for me. it never was, really.

i drowned half the time in your presence, half the time when you were gone

 

i cannot sail & i hardly float

but a throusand times again would i have stood in the garden

by the front door, of apartment no. 26. a thousand times again would i have trailed my dirty feet across the wooden floors, and soaked the sofa with my hair, a thousand times again could i have laid in the grass with you. smoked on the porch with shaky fingers. watched the storm drains fill up and overflow. but it never rained for you like it did for me,

you only ever saw the weather