Tell It To The Rain

There were many ways around it---

as there had always been for one who makes excuses

He was beautiful and damaging in just his expression

always unaware of the nature of his high class problems

never keen on when I needed his lips to my forehead

avaricious

abysmal

He was stunning and blissfully angry at everything around him---

for no good reason

establishing a separation anxiety

inventing rationales for never calling on Monday

or Tuesday--

and now it was boring

and unappealing

and worthless

In the Fall, he would always find a way to ignore me,

and I would forever be alone in my bed come the fourth Thursday in November

and December

In the Summer and the Spring, he was more inclined to change his mind

his mood

his demeanor toward everyone

and me---

by default

not because I was me

but because sunshine was always with an expiration date

of sorts

and it was then that I noticed, in the Winter of my life---

I had never seen snow while holding a hand

Thus it would remain---mine

my private pain

to the grave---

and beyond