more than hope depends

on the merciless weather,

changing just because.

but I will undress and stand

in rain and make love to time.

and we'll talk about

our matching outfits, and plan

for all the forecasts

we are longing to defy

with minds we lost to hearts.

Or maybe, we'll just stay in.

I need you

Alone

All to myself

Can't you hear the storm?

It's building every day

Clouds muddle my thinking

As I watch your hips sway

I need you

Alone

All to myself

Can't you see the droplets?

Pressure building inside me

Winds test my capacity

As I get a glimpse of your knee

I need you

Alone

All to myself

Can't you feel the warmth?

A storm has passed this way

Rain released in torrents

As you feel it's spray

I needed you

Alone

All to myself

Drip. Drip.

"It's raining." I remarked.

Silence.

Always, silence.

The grass was damp beneath my shoes. I could feel the moisture soaking in through my soles. I didn't find that I cared.

My umbrella was deflecting most of the rain, but it was tilted back so I could see you in front of me. The water ran down my face.

I suppose it's poetic, this moment. Fresh water from the heavens mingling with my own salt tears.

"It's always raining." I said.

You said nothing.

"I thought of bringing you flowers, but they would've gotten soaked on the way here."

The rain fell. The clouds moaned, the wind screamed.

You slept in your grave.

As always.

Talking about the weather with you, alone

is better than you not saying a word to me

you talk to the butcher, the gas station clerk

but not a word to me- what is wrong?

your lips remain sealed no matter my pleading

I know I got angry, threw you against the wall

but you came home late without letting me know

dinner wasn’t ready when I arrived at six

You know I like it on the table when I walk in the door

And I don’t like cauliflower as you damned well know

You wouldn’t have served it if you cared about me

And now you’re not talking to me at all

Your eyes stare glassy, you’re holding your breath

It’s all your fault, you made me do it, you bitch

I’m getting angry again but your body remains still

If it mattered to you, you’d talk to me once more

now I sit, alone, talking about weather with no one.

I wanted

To be

With you

Alone

And talk

About

The weather

I wanted

To ask

You

About

Your day

I wanted

To undress

You

With my

Understanding

I wanted

Your eyes

Ebony

To concentrate

On me

And I

Wanted

To feel

Your perception

Of my

Insecurities

In your

Touch

But alas

I need

You

To rise

Up

From

The grave

For your

Death

Is

Unbearable

The dust rises in my heart,

like feathers on a bird.

Speaking it's mind to passerby,

in this case it's you.

Tornadoes wrap tightly around my internal garden of thoughts,

waiting to be harvested.

Storms are raging,

my kindling is growing inferior,

as thoughts are pulled up like weeds,

and my forest of love is no longer green.

Tornadoes and fire touch,

they form one and thrash my dreams,

only to break apart,

cracking like the thunder,

the ripping of my favorite brain fittings.

I hyperventilate as it grows humid,

my palm trees sway harshly,

my ocean begins to cry.

Lightening dotting my memory,

good things disappearing,

incinerating.

Will I remember?

Can I search through the debris?

We need to talk about the weather of my soul,

before it starts to lose everything.

if that was all

in this case

it would be enough

considering movements of clouds

when and how much humidity

or how little sun would shine

that it was always like this

in various times

as if that mattered

it was more about listening

hearing the lilt and fall

of voices considering

Waiting all day to get you alone

Now that we're here, I'm suddenly shy.

My nervous fingers twirl a lock of hair,

You're gazing thoughtfully up at the sky.

"It was a nice day," you said as you turned.

I'm sitting on the closed trunk of my car.

"Beautiful," I agreed as I watched you inhale

The tip of your cigarette glows like a star.

We are out in the desert, it's mid-September.

There's no one nearby, we're all alone.

Discussing the heat, is summer over at last?

The slight breeze teases me with your cologne.

We talk of the latest windstorm for a while.

Desert dwellers can discuss wind endlessly.

We're both sitting on the trunk of my car.

I'm distracted by your hand on my knee.

Anticipation builds, my foot starts to shake.

My fingers keep getting tangled in my hair.

And you're still talking about the forecast.

And I suddenly realize how little I care.

We can talk about the weather all day long,

I realize this with an epiphany of sorts,

I've fallen in love, so as long as I'm next to you,

I'll even listen when you talk about sports.

In this instant

I feel the wind on my face.

It's winter

But it feels like spring.

Weather is bipolar

Which is ironic

Don't you think?

It changes, it moves, and it shifts.

Everybody is walking,

But I just stop.

I close my eyes

And I take it all in.

Time slows down

in these few moments,

As the breeze lifts my hair 

And lifts my soul.

I breathe in and out

And my worries fly away

As the wind is a gift from God

To give me some happiness today.

More ethereal than the moment before the sun rises

The cumulus embrace you, raise you 

Hair a soft halo

Around your luminous face

My center, my keystone

The dewy spider web 

Strong despite (because?) of your beauty 

The balmy heat of your breath

Caresses my ear

Torturous silence in the wake of you

Oh how I long to speak of your weather

My almost hurricane