Missing you.
It’s not raining yet but I can feel it coming;
smell the rain just hovering above me. Yellow
umbrella, Edgar Allen Poe, day dreaming
on a rooftop overlooking a cemetery. I can feel you sitting
behind me, brushing my wild fire hair behind my ear,
your breath is warm; it brings
tears to my eyes. When I turn, instead
of being graced by the sight of your beautiful face,
I’m hit with brutal wind. You told me you would go
but I thought I could fix it. I held you when you cried,
burying my own tears in the pits of my stomach.
I know you know I loved you. I also know it wasn’t enough.
People don’t understand the pain that we
go through when “there’s nothing wrong.” I knew.
I knew you were hurting. Your green eyes used to go
right through me, piercing everything inside. I don’t blame you.
I just miss you.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than a Flower