It was always going to be this way.
You knew it from the moment you first laid your eyes on her.
You knew it when she turned her eyes on you,
even as she smiled.
It couldn’t be what you thought it was.
Still you fell in love.
You let yourself.
You had to.
There wasn’t any other way.
You let yourself believe there was something, anything.
Something you wanted.
Someone who wanted you.
And now there’s the rain.
It crashes down to earth as you slap your hand.
“No, no, don’t think about her.”
You let it sink it, let it seep through your clothes to your skin,
making you sicker.
You sneeze and try to hide it, but it’s like thunder.
There’s flooding in the city.
You wade through salty pools.
Might as well be swimming.
Might as well drown.
But there she is, safe inside on the other side of the window.
Does she even feel the rain?
Does she even see it? Hear it?
Maybe it’s best that the rain be kept away from her.
Just carry the stormcloud over yourself.
This is your storm.
You knew it was coming from the start,
and still you stayed.
Why make her suffer through it?
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