Its raining. The big, fat drops are pelting down in anger. They’re frustrated. Letting go of all the excess. Its the desert after all, it barely ever rains here. And when it rains, it pours.
Its the thunder. It curses at me furiously in its deep guttural voice for not letting it rain. That’s right, at me? Why me? Well, as I sit here under the uncontrollable rainstorm, like the “male” I am, I cry. I cry out to the Sky.
Ive always been a barren desert, too indifferent to cry but ever since you came, ever since you made me feel again, it always pours; on the edges of my skin for your proximity, through my heart to become one with yours, and within my existence to be able to make you mine.
I have my wife by my side don’t mind me, I’m a happy and satisfied man. Which is exactly what I don’t need. Yes. Yes, I want it, I wanted it, I believed I wanted it, only its not what I need. After teaching economics for years, you’d think I could differentiate between basic human needs and wants, and I had it all wrong the whole time. To be able to realize what you need and make it yours, is the luxury that the very blessed few get to satisfy. Our wants are anything but luxurious, they’re monotonous, predictable and worthless, very much like my wife. I can get a trophy wife anywhere, but can I have you? You are the luxury I need, a luxury past all my secondary, baseless wants. You bring out my primal hunger to give myself to you, it is you I need and you I treasure. None of my wealth and cars make up for you. They don’t make up for how utterly beautiful you look when you look down and smile. They don’t even come close to the warmth of your heart, it encapsulates me deeper and deeper everyday. Their eyes aren’t as intimidating and soft as yours and their purity isn’t as mischievous and grounding like yours. And they most definitely aren’t as far away from being mine as you are.
So I sit here under the pouring rain, crying for your love, even though you have sold your soul to me. I cry into the breaking dawn as cold drops envelope me and weigh down my clothes, allowing me to believe I have cried enough to make the world feel my pain. Yet I bear this alone. I want you for all of eternity and I want you for myself alone, but you’re the only red in this gray-scaled world that I cannot color down to match my blacks and whites.
Alyssa comes and wraps her arms around my neck, “morning papa, why didn’t you wake me up for the rain, you know I love watching the sky with you” she says with mild annoyance and sits beside me. “Sorry Aly, but I don’t want to share the Sky with anyone anymore”, I say looking up to to my daughter with my tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. And she searches my face for sadness but finds nothing, ignoring me and laying her head on my shoulder. She found nothing because I’m grey, I need to be contaminated with red to be full again.
For my petal