It’s raining. 3AM and it’s raining.
I should be asleep.
You never think the last time will be the last time. Or maybe we just don’t know it’s the last time until the hours after the last time we were what we were set in. Until it is 3AM and raining.
I should be asleep.
It rained the day we met. I only said hi because saying hi is what you do. If I knew then what I know now, let’s be honest, I’d probably still say hi too.
I can’t remember if it rained that morning. Maybe it was that night. Day and night are sort of the same thing, right? Opposites that fit, depend on each other, all that jazz.
I was day. You were night. But somehow we both fit better in the in-between space of dusks and dawns where we could be gray even though the skies were hand-spun cotton candy pinks, purples, and blues.
I’ve carried you worlds. I take you with me everywhere.
The sky was the color of cotton-candy that day too. I remember waking up, looking out the window at the sun rising over Table Mountain, committed to its eternal task of shining. I thought of you. I couldn’t stop doing that.
“Do I find it so hard?
When I know in my heart
I’m letting you down every day
Letting you down every day
Why do I keep running away?”
Running away, running to, what’re you so afraid of? Getting close, pulling back, cycles. We do this every time. Everyday. Always. All ways. I disappear to another continent. You burrow into yourself. “Why do I keep running away?” What if we came home? Home to ourselves. Home to each other. Home to you, me, we, us, together.
I knew Lemonade was a personal exercise in healing as soon as I heard it. JAY-Z cheating wasn’t a new thing. We knew about the miscarriages too. Why is it so easy to ignore a woman’s pain? Justify a man’s behavior? I know you saw the Resentment video too. Don’t you ever for a second get to thinking – you’re irreplaceable.
Except, what if, you are? Irreplaceable.
Sandcastle turned house on which to stand.
I can’t, what is it about you that I can’t erase?
Don’t promise me anything. They never workout that way.
When I got to 4:44 my heart stopped. THAT was what I came here for.
“I’ll fuck up a good thing if you let me.”
Let you? I’m not sure if I let you or if you let me.
we should leave each other be.
“I’m never gonna treat you like I should,”
doesn’t tell me you can’t or don’t want to.
It tells me you just might not know how…
“We all screwed cuz we never had the tools.”
Do you even want them?
I should be asleep. Sunshine has come.
I could teach you…
I shouldn’t have (want) to.
I don’t want to be Beyoncé in love.
or, maybe, I do?
This poem is excerpted from sunny., a collection of poetry and prose about life, love, and all that other stuff. What happens to the love when it’s gone? How do you extradite yourself from a situation you shouldn’t have been in in the first place? Can you ever heal? If so, how?
Sunny. was written by Gabrielle Hickmon.
You can purchase a copy of sunny., here.