sometimes I’m arrogant enough
to think the sky is weeping for me
when it rains and I
I weep for the sky, and
it weeps for me.
but a much bigger view reveals that
I am much too small
for something as big and blue to be crying for me
it’s not crying for you
but I am.
the sun shines and I think
of it shining when we
danced through the park just like a movie
like slow-motion laughter and feet in the pond
and forevers and nevers spilling out of our mouths
like a waterfall we couldn’t reign in
but ended up drowning us.
when the sun hides its face behind a mask of gray
I think of the days when we curled up inside
with hot chocolate and The Princess Bride on a small laptop screen
warm socks and warm hands
your hands in my hair, my hair in my face.
but how can the placement of
beat me like a slavedriver?
the sun is just a star, far
and I have my own life now.
and I came to the conclusion
through growing strong and weeks
that nothing weeps for me.
I am my own, and nature can do nothing
the sun just looks on me with apathy.
but I stay indoors just in case
I start to feel things
my room is cozy and almost
as the sun, or your arms
and it’s all I need.
but then one day my armchair began to weep for me
as I sat in it
engulfed me in its arms until it was suffocating me
and it struck me like a passing thought, a simple “ah”
I realized that I couldn’t breathe.