They don’t know us. They only know our names
for each other now that we’re not together;
I’m an X, you’re an X, such are the frames
that forecast our meanings, like the weather.
Some like to claim they know what’s coming next
and make decisions based on all their careful notes;
such people are understandably quite vexed
when life ignores their plans and grabs their throats.
It’s raining now, and though that was unexpected,
what’s strange is that the noise against the pane
is soft and comforting tonight. I am protected
by the vagaries of the sky and yet again
the thought that like a moon in its constant ebb and shine,
I could never be fully yours, nor you be fully mine.
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