You smelled like this one rainy saturday:
it had no impact on ourselves because it was inconclusive,
but it holds such a weight in my heart.
I’d had my eye on the bottle left over from the wine we shared that weekend
and the sweater you’d given me when it started to rain.
And now they’re mine, as far as I’m concerned,
because as heavy as they are, they’ll probably always remain insignificant to you;
mindless articles from a day you probably overlooked.
But you’d never looked so good and the rain never fell so strongly
and my heart had never felt more than it had until that moment.
Twice taken and you were shy
creeping in slowly again, more carefully this time.
My bones, they touch and since you’ve been gone
they’ve been distancing themselves;
keeping themselves warm by rubbing against the skin.
But with you back, so slowly shredding apart my life,
splints break off and fragment into my exterior.
Crumbling, my eyes detect each knot,
each twisting hollowed joint,
each goose bumped inch of skin from chilly evenings,
everything I thought was gone,
warmed by the graces of my own strength.
But learning my ways, my thoughts,
you’re disguised as everything I hold dear
keeping it all once and twice, taken.
Brown and bubbled and foamed up,
erupting with eroticism
and thoughtless diction
this flame-throwing senseless loss of control
and self destruction,
destructive wantings
and self-awaring prophecies,
drenched in us, drowning us
moving on into a senseless rust.
Ill-written and self-permissive
carried on and out
in a selfless doubt
leading down a path of crimson and brown
poured from the neck, the pinpoint spout
keeping us always spiraling down
into a fathoming hole of selfishness
and messed up minds,
slowly and surely, stealing our time
keeping the past fully alive
and keeping us locked in our own senseless minds.
I’ll miss all of you,
down to every small bit, every small, last inch.
I missed you while you were in the other room,
when my hands couldn’t reach around you,
even though I could hear you.
And I’d count the days until your warmth presses against,
and I can feel your presence
from the other room
so close to me,
so close to you.
I’ll miss all of you,
your dusty hair and eyes,
things I’ve come to realize
I long for at night,
the empty space in my bed
the missing piece from my heart
I’ll miss all of you,
every bit and every inch,
as we’re etched together
in this distance.
The day had been so down,
our hearts, opened fully with it all -
gasoline and out own inner selves,
plasmatic in the rainy haze.
So un-monumental, so un-influential,
but I still keep the wine bottle,
the one with the twisted black tree,
reminding me of the woods we’d walked it
trying to reach the river before the rain came.
Certain memories always leaving a mark,
but this one. It’s impression is captivated there,
burned into my hands, which I’ll miss grasping yours.
In the summer time, the one time when lovers run wild,
and between us, the miles. My heart, it won’t be with me.
So hold on and please, to the memories, the ones like these;
when we got caught in the rain
and how things will always remain.
