When the rain has dried on windows, do you think of me?
The aftermath of a downpour
Nothing but a resin left, ugly, tainted
Or do you hire the cleaners out? wipe away any memory, start fresh
Can’t clean my windows. Too high up, too embedded, it’s too unstable
You move on, ‘fine’ as the delft-blue mist that removes any sign of residue
I linger. As spiritless as the white roses that dance their hazy movement
outside my bedroom window, on a mild winter
The sky remains blanketed, still in its grey weight.
To think you dirtied me and then rid of me.
Benighted, I was.
You were my Virgo lover, my earth element companion.
Lavender-haired boy, I bared my all to you.
Spoiled so many words, on you.
Now language is dead and you have new windows and I do not and you still revile me.