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