the things that leave me sick

I Hate the Rain

Sometimes,
I wish the rain could miss me
As much as I miss it.

It comes without fail,
chooses me
every single time, 

then leaves me with a sore throat

and a bunch of ugly coughs.

I hate it.

I hate that I miss
what I shouldn't keep.

What slips through my fingers,
what settles under my skin,
What burns when it's cold.

It’s hard to look up
when the sky is crying,
without feeling
like I don’t belong beneath it.

Sometimes I wonder
Would it be easier
to never have loved the rain?

But still,
when the clouds gather,
I wait.