dewdrops on roses

Ms.

She was honest from the start. Abrasive, with a broken heart,
and overly open in her needs. “Be my boyfriend, please,”
she asked me casually, with a laugh and eyes so empty.

Conversations were one-sided, short-sighted,
always only about her, broken with awkward laughter,
sometimes awkward singing. And to this day I’m still searching

for what I saw in it, why my dreams still revisit
her memory and shadows, making her more than she was,
unsuccessfully rose-tinting her sudden heartfelt parting.

J.A.

first impressions aren’t always wrong,

and I wish I hadn’t been such a typical optimist
wanting to see the good in every misunderstood boy
sometimes there’s nothing to be found
behind a mask made of narcissism
and a spine built off humiliating others

but it’s so easy to be blinded by second chances

and it’s so easy to mistake
relief for
emptiness

Hi,

She came in like a sudden shower while the sun was still out
Gentle, humming words that dripped with the tragedy of romance
The kind of water that soaked into my coat
And left a familiar dampness on my neck all night

Before that rain, I hadn’t noticed her long gazes
Nor pieced together the unexpected eye contact we’d often make

But once she had the chance, she held my hands reverently
And whispered to me of dewdrops on rose petals
Reminding me to set the speed. “I don’t want to scare you,” she sighed
Yet she slowly eroded my defenses despite my silence

A growing discomfort rippled my rib cage each time she called out to me
As if she was begging me to save her from an impending storm

I was experienced now, damaged but wiser, and knew when to say “Stop”
She smiled softly, understanding and mature as older women are
But the silence left in her wake suffocates me
Like humid, cloudy days that refuse to cry

— I fall in love during the silence between
     ‘Goodbye’ and ‘I Never Liked You‘