Raindrops are becoming of you
the way they fall and stick
to your eyelids
like the glitter on my lips
or the dust on the chair
where you used to sit
Sunshine has dried my tears
(and also your heart)
doesn't beat like it used too
The holes in the door
are long gone
and the hinge on the porch swing
doesn't squeak anymore
and I remember how you used
to read me poetry
to the tune of it
and the dreams we shared
now lost
like the glitter on my lips
or the dust on the armchair
where you used to sit.
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