Sharing the Rain

    With the sky in its gravest of days, 
    and my heart fallen into foggy haze. 
    Must I become what fate yet has sealed, 
    with the kiss that has yet to be yield? 

    Who am I, who are you, 
    and what do we think we’re doing? 
    This is wrong, and we know it, 
    what do we think we’re doing? 
    And why are we doing it? 
    Why? 

    You, you have a girl, my friend, 
    one to follow suit. 
    You, you have tied up loose ends 
    but you still pull up the roots. 

    And I, oh how shameful I must feel, 
    because I still love another, 
    so please understand, I won’t love you, 
    not under any blunder. 

    Who am I, who are you, 
    and what do we think we’re doing? 

    I love him, yes I love him, 
    more than I say for you. 
    I need him more than breath to my lungs, 
    or a heartbeat left to ensue. 
    Please don’t make me do this. 

    No, you can’t make me do this, 
    however he has hurt me, 
    I cannot return any favor of mine 
    to hurt him back. 
    You can’t make me do this. 

    Oh, how I do love you, 
    but not in such a way 
    that makes any of this travesty 
    even slightly okay. 

    Friends forever, I’ll admit, 
    but nothing more in turn, 
    because though I’m versed in what love is, 
    you’ve still a lot to learn. 

    So listen close, and listen well, 
    just try to understand, 
    nothing is as it has seemed 
    when I hold out my hand. 
    The rain will pour, as it has for days 
    and we’ll be caught up in the storm. 
    Nobody may understand 
    what this rain has brought to mourn. 
    Tears that hide in fallen skies 
    and clouds that eventually fade, 
    and love—as crush—as it has been 
    will quickly go away. 
    And yes, we can share this moment. 
    Yes you can smile at me. 
    But only in this moment, 
    will you see what I can see. 

    You say you love this girl, 
    I know I love this boy, 
    so, rain or not, moment or not, 
    our love is only ploy. 

    When I ended up showing this poem to a couple of my friends, they all said the same thing: “So… who are you cheating with Mattie?!” I hesitated and it took a couple seconds for it to hit me what they meant. I want to go ahead and make this clarification: this poem is not about cheating. Not in the literal sense at least. It’s about emotionally cheating. About a boy who has a girlfriend and yet still feels something for another. About a girl who, though she is truly in love, she feels a tiny piece of lust for another. It is about the guilt felt towards emotional cheating, and the purity of true love that should be treated as a newborn. After all, love is the purest of all emotions.