outer space

You remind me a lot of leaving. I still look at the door and think about how long it has been exactly since you walked out of it. Even as I was shaking I was writing this poem in my head. You tasted of thunder and clear skies. You always contradicted yourself. You said you loved me but you left me. You said I was beautiful to look at but you couldn’t stand to look at me anymore. I still stand in the rain with my mouth wide open and my eyes closed in hopes of tasting you. I stopped carrying an umbrella with me. I want to feel you on my skin, even though it burns. You were the most beautiful type of storm. The kind where it would be sunny and there would still be rain falling. I fall asleep in your drizzle. My mother asks me why I’ve started dancing in the rain, why I always come home soaked. I tell her that you’ve evaporated and this was all that was left of you.