You Said When the Rain

You said when the rain comes down
and thunder roars,
lightning strikes again,
and you soak it all in
lying in the grass.
And I said I like to stand
and let the rain
pour over me,
and wash away again.
It's a cold
and lonely thing to do.
The idea came from you.
And we walked
and talked
on a clear warm night.
The stars you showed me,
all shining bright,
and there you told me
all about yourself.
You're a dreamer,
and I listened
from inside my shell.
You asked about my life.
I avoided that question well,
and you seemed
not to notice.
So we went on
and pondered over God
and time.
Then we went inside.
A warm hug
goodnight.

One night,
a lonely crowded night,
we were outside,
and in the water
with others,
in blue light.
When you sat so close to me,
and I wanted you to.
You wondered what you'd done
to make me so afraid of you,
and you rubbed my shoulder
as I stared out into the darkness
wishing for what could never be,
and I turned around.
You put braids in my hair.
I wished we could always
stay there.
I was afraid,
so you went away.

To try to explain,
I found you one night,
again to talk,
and you kept saying,
"What a beautiful song,"
and we finally sat down.
You got your pictures out,
and showed me
a wonderful life.
I'm glad you didn't have mine.
Could your self have survived?
I can't say,
but I wanted to show you
where I'd come from
anyway.
I sat there
while you got ready,
and we went outside,
locked out into the night.
My key was wrong somehow.
We ran around
in the cold,
and got back in,
finally, to my room.
Sat on the bed,
you asked me about
the pictures on the wall.
We passed them all,
and one I saw you skip by.
Just a picture,
a guy,
but I knew why.
We sat,
and I showed you my life.
Told you a little
of what went wrong,
but there's so much more
to know.
I couldn't say it.
Didn't know what you'd do,
so we talked.
Then I tried to play a song,
but the keyboard
was too strange that night.
You played some,
and asked if I'd written
anything.
You told me to play it,
so I did,
and my fingers knew it well.
You listened,
and I felt,
all of a sudden,
you were close
to me,
and I played on
and ended it
so the tension
would go away.
But it was back again
when you looked at
the face I drew,
turned and said to me,
"It looks like you."
I looked away,
and talked a lot.
I wouldn't let you kiss me,
knowing about her,
but not from you.
Seeing her picture,
and you
changing the subject.

We left my room that night,
but I had a hard time
leaving you.
You turned to me
and said that I should go.
It was because I was tired,
but you didn't say it
aloud.
You held my hand,
and then we said goodbye.
No matter how hard
I know you tried,
I won't be number two,
or share you with her.
I'm the one left out.
She's been yours
for so long.
Why ruin it now?
I still won't let you
touch me.
You still
don't say her name,
but the more
we think about it,
something has to change.