You Brought Out My Best and Worst Selves
A poem

I’ve been laying in the grass for hours, hoping I’ll see your face in the clouds.
Just before the last thunderstorm, I looked into the sky and felt a jolt of nervousness, like we’d locked eyes, yours mud-colored and smiling. It was the first time I’d seen you in years.
Lighting flashed. You became clear.
You were taller, broader. Your patchy beard had finally filled in, just like you told me it would, one day.
I just didn’t think the “one day” would look like this, standing in the middle of the street, rain dropping from the sky as if God was crying with me.
This morning, the weatherman said a thunderstorm was coming. By afternoon, my weather app said it’ll be partly sunny but I still have hope, enough to soften my heels into the grass and smile at the sky as the clouds blurred.






