Windows

I feel it, but I cannot keep it. At least not long enough. For times when the rain seeps inside and dampness covers everything. So many empty rooms and I seem to be in all of them. I can hear the beat of the drum, but not the music. Like his warmth on my sheets after he has gone. Pretending that he thinks of me as I think of him. Until the enormity of the world reminds me how small I really am.

There is no such thing as loneliness when there is no one to want. Just pretty colors spoiling the darkness. Arrogant storm clouds so confident of their thunder. I have to write it down or it will all be lost. Little lies to create bigger ones.

Sipping on my denial while it’s still hot. There is no future for us, just a past. And dirty windows that keep us apart from each other. I remind him that glass can be broken, like many things, but he never believes me.