its just rain, i only wish
i could convince myself
the droplets shatter me
like ice, against the skin
of my cheekbones, almost as painful as the tears
that streak down like razorblades, slicing
me apart to the very core.

your love was never
genuine;
it was all an act, a poorly written play,
meant for theater, performed alone.
i only wish
you could have been
a better
actress.