Every Time

June 6, 2010
By brightsideofthemoon GOLD, Rochester, New York
brightsideofthemoon GOLD, Rochester, New York
11 articles 2 photos 4 comments

The last two times I saw you it rained all night
I used to like it, the rain I mean.
And you, I used to like you.

It’s a funny thing, “liking someone.”
It’s just easier that way, easier than this.
It makes me hate you,
Just like how you have the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen and you don’t even appreciate them.

You have a hard time doing that, appreciating.

As I lay with my head on your slow-rising chest now I smile and taste my tears at the same time, because you’re just so beautiful.
It was so beautiful.

We used to ride bikes together.
You would pull me down the street and you smiled and I knew you were actually smiling.

I’m the other woman, but
I’m still yours,
I’m still yours,
She is yours.

When it rained last summer we would go outside and drink it.
We would savor the chill the damp grass left on our backs
And try to find ways to leave this world.
And we would go, we would just leave.

I would close the windows when we slept so that I could hear the rain pelt the glass softly.
I liked the threatening sound of it, and the way that I knew we could not be threatened.
It made me realize things, like how it alternated with the sound of your strong heart and the fuzzy hum of your brother’s all-night video games.
And every time I reached for your hand while you were asleep your fingers curled into mine automatically.
Every time I reached…

I hate the distance and the time and the girls who are older than me and know more.
They know you better than I do.
I love you more.
I hate how much I miss you when you’re not even “you” anymore.
And I hate how every time I see you now the rain brings a cold front that takes away the summer for a week at a time.

I keep the windows open when we sleep so that I cannot hear the rain pelt the glass softly.
I like the empty sound of the rain hitting the overgrown weeds outside the basement window, and the way that I know I am empty.
It makes me realize things, like how it’s out of sync with the random beating of your weak heart and the absolute silence that surrounds your house.
And every time I reach for your hand while you’re sleeping your fingers don’t recognize mine automatically.
Every time I reach…

The author's comments:
I love you

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