Please sign up
or login to post a critique.
Standing in My RainOpening my door as fully as thishas never been done before.I've been locked and yet broken.You make no claims,no promises, no lies,just stand there in my rain.You pull them out,one by one,the hurts I hide,the fears inside.And because of you...I feel alive,like maybe I'm gonna be okay.I feel all right,like maybe I can let go of this,like maybe everything I know can change.But something tells me if I can't yet,you might still be here,standing in my rain.We all try to hopethat someone will come alongpull away our cloak,and still love what's inside.Though I know you're still discovering me,this beautiful awakeningis because of you...I feel alive,like maybe I'm gonna be okay.I feel all right,like maybe I can let go of this.But something tells me if I can't yet,you might still be here,standing in my rain.
Rebound or TurnaroundFour months ago you worked across the room from mesix hours a dayfive days a weekand I thought, "I'd like a man like that."Except I already had one nothing like you,and integrity trumps all.Two weeks agoit all changed.Suddenly I was by myself in the bigger picture,and with you in the smaller one--across a table for yet another friendly lunch,another forty minutes of secretly feeling sixteen.I watched your shy eyes smile in that different wayand wondered if it was moving fastor just moving closer to home.Comfortable silencesand real laughter combineto make unfamiliar deja vu.I remember this,or at least remember what I wanted oncebefore I traded it for what I thought I needed.You think I'll be sick of you soon."Anytime now," you laugh as you kiss my foreheadand I close my eyes so my sense of touchovertakes everything else.You don't want what everyone wants,the quick satisfaction of lust dressed asa soulmate.You don't want the lust at all, andthat scares me.T
That Was a LifeIt was a book, you see.Four years of my all,wrapped in dried roses and lilies andwhile-you-were-gone photos.It was a chronicle,of love and laughter andfinally-open hearts.I have to smile when I see thenote saying "Pick up milk, you darling princess."It's surreal.Paging through the memorieswhile surrounded by your suitcases.You put down the black shirt I likeand type inane stupidityto the woman you love,while I stand here wearing your ring.I'm just an obstacleon your way back to her.It's maddening.I want my heart to closewhen the book does.I want to stop hearing yourmatter-of-factness.You really just wanted her all this time.You only took me because I was there.So sorry for stringing me along,but you're fixing that problem now.How manly of you."It's not your fault,"your lips say while your fingers type,non-committal. Somewhere else.I'm not worth your time anymore.You pause while you talk,for your attention wants pixels.It already had h