A Poem I Know On the Rainy Days

With you, 

I never dreamed of white dresses.

I never pictured the shimmering scenes of friends and lovers,

a superfluous flowing of gossamer petals and lashes.

Instead, 

it was a cupped longing, a guttural knowing.

It was angst 

and salty torrents

and a when-can-I-kiss-your-face?

It had never been like this before.

Reckless exploits, 

but a discernment in the soul.

And over a year later,

that mountain of misguided emotions

still needs a cathartic release

on days when rains.

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