the trees look black
when the sky is gray.
she only just noticed now.
she’s had too much on her mind for her 21 years
to even look at the contrast.
he wants to hold her and told her he loves her for the hundredth time.
still she resists.
No Trust.
she’s walked that road a million times it seems.
she wants it from him…not him,
a feeling of priority.
maybe only searching into the other to make up for the lack.
how many more times will the rain clouds open up in her eyes?
how many more times will they open up in his,
until he vanishes?
she hits the ground hard, falling off of her canopy in the sky
that she’s created from the drugs and the smoke.
they’re a good façade for now,
it’s too cloudy to see how she really feels anyway, and she likes it that way.
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