The night before you left me,

it was raining.

The cold wind came seeping through the cracks in the window,

chilling my skin beneath my summer sheets.

You took me in your arms and held me,

keeping me warm beneath it all.

Though I tried to protest,

your calming whisper assured me

"Let it be."

In the morning when I rose,

you were already at the door.

You gave me your key, and I handed you your suitcase

packed with memories

neither of us could bare to discard 

or destroy.

Eyes cast in a downward shame,

you leaned close - 

at that moment I wanted nothing more

than for you to profess your love; an insincere apology -

and you would be back where you belonged.

But your lips politely brushed my cheek,

and before you left you said

"Call when it rains, you know where to find me."

Now on stormy days I sit alone,

in an empty house too large for one,

built to be shared by two.

I sit and wait and muse,

because though you promised to stick with me through the clouds,

you evaporated when the sun came round. 

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