With your sharpest scalpel positioned haphazardly on my heart,

You summoned the crimson storm.

I saw the shadow of the clouds file in but I lied in the last sunny spot,

Still, and smiling because I wanted to wait for you to choose your lot.

Maybe you didn’t know your power.

Maybe you didn’t think the spell would work.

But the deep, deep wound was made,

When you didn’t tell me your love had strayed.

Then all the downpour came, you just opened up your umbrella,

And walked away without a trace of dilemma,

To a place where your feet would no longer tread

In puddles of the blood I shed.

In a far away place you share your umbrella with another,

While I’m still here raining red.

I should be burning in rage but I’m too drenched to fuel the fire,

And no amount of anger or envy can reclaim your desire.

Maybe you didn’t know your power.

Maybe you didn’t think the spell would work.

But the deepest wound has already been made,

And you’re not returning to mend what you slayed.

Waiting for the storm to subside wondering how to let go of you,

A Good Samaritan stooped to peel my fingers from a clenched fist.

As my hand let the mist of you slip away, I let my renewed vision direct

My steps to stand so I could mop and tidy up the mess you neglect.

Maybe I underestimated your power.

Your curse led to blessings in the appointed hour.

And as time and strangers have revealed,

With faith my wounds can be healed.

Once again I lied in a sunny spot, waiting for my new lover.

Carefully he positions his hand over my heart, holding a feather.

Whenever he drops his awaited reponse, whatever he might say,

It will not hurt becasue I chose someone who will summon a sunny day.

Maybe you will never know your power.

You were in town so we met for tea by the Water Tower.

My wounds have closed up and dried.

You can’t see a scar even if you tried.