“The Metaphor is Easier”

The somber sky

remains the same shade of gray

until it opens its eyes and weeps itself into a near-black.

Raindrops fall

on rooftops

on sidewalks

on and on

the same sleepy song.

It’s like a broken record or some other fixed cliche we spout

because it’s easier to tell people what we feel like instead of how we feel,

which is, uh, to say, um, that I guess I want you so desperately I can’t think of anything else.

I wish you had taken these feelings with you when you left, but I guess that’s my baggage, not yours, and I’ll just have to carry on.

Pffft! The metaphor is easier than dealing with the truth that I love you and I can’t have you and I hate that I never told you or showed you or had I don’t know – something, anything to say other than goodbye and good luck – because this is super-hard, and Arrgh! I wasn’t ready, even though I knew it was coming because people leave – they always do, so… yeah.

I feel like a I miss you.

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One comment on ““The Metaphor is Easier”

  1. […] me that if I’m gone, inside,  he’d die without me. The rain partially inspired the poem I wrote yesterday. It had a little indirect help from Hamlet, but the first half is obviously […]

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