Hiding Behind Thunderstorms

You had been outside,

The rain was hard that day,

I remember you were still walking,

And I remained blind to your pain.

You had rolled the large tobacco

Between those yellowing teeth

And looked to me, wondering what I

Was doing outside with you underneath

The little, wooden roof.

I looked to you, wishing to know your secrets,

Those thoughts you hid so well,

Hiding your shrewd, yet honest eyes,

Beneath the dirty, tattered hat.

We were alone, you and I,

We never were afraid of thunderstorms.

The lightning threatening, with the wind

Blowing from its back.

We sat together, as family, as acquaintances,

Still, I wonder, I had never before felt that closeness,

Not with you, until that very day.

My eyes pitied you,

You who were so brave, so strong,

So helpless and so weak.

You who loved me, you who cared,

I had pitied you.

But now I stumble upon this claim,

And regret.

What right did I have to pity you?

What right did I have in it?

I had lowered myself,

While you spoke to me in such soothing tones.

I think you already knew.

You were warning me,

Telling me with your broken voice

That I would suffer.

I have suffered.

I have fallen within my body,

And detest this weakness.

But, I long to tell you that

I will never be as strong as you,

Never be as loving, as kind.

I will never have the chance to watch you smoke

That tobacco between your yellow-stained teeth.

That night,

That thunderous, rainy night,

You had wordlessly showed me your love.

I had stared at the sky.