Yes. No. Yes. No.
Yes,
I was so dramatic,
but that’s what you loved about me,
I was a tempest,
a teen temptress,
slamming doors,
stirring you up,
tearing the whole room apart,
until you could take no more,
kissing away my kicking and screaming.
No,
I didn’t have a clue,
and there are things that nobody can teach you,
until you are ready to be taught.
I dreamed at dusk,
turning to Taylor and Adele,
to try and figure out why you were so cruel,
to someone who lived so passionately for you.
Yes,
your efforts to protect me,
from the violence of your disturbing desire,
felt cruel,
because all I knew,
was how to want you.
I toiled in time,
that wasn’t spent in a smitten storm,
that raged all around you,
possessively pouring,
never quite catching you,
because you had selfishly decided,
that you were staying inside,
to wait out the vengeful weather,
that you had spent many nights praying for.
No,
I suppose you didn’t think it through,
when you were gazing out,
at the fruitless fields,
that you thought had flowered for the last time.
I suppose you didn’t think it through,
as you sat at your desk,
leaving lupins for Dodola,
and asking her,
for fresh,
young spring rain.
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