the weatherman always lies.

 

 

Friends were supposed to bring the sun

but took it to another part of town

to let cold clouds control my skies in the daytime

and allow rainfalls even Noah would marvel.

 

 

the weatherman always lies.

 

 

Love was supposed to keep the winds away

but instead turned to hold them for someone else

and let twisters loose in the flat plains of my heart

as parts of me tore off and blew away with the harsh breeze.

 

the weatherman always, always, always lies.

 

it wasn’t supposed to snow for 366 days straight,

but family brought the harshest of winters, the heaviest of storms,

and i cannot run fast enough across my yard with flakes up to my eardrums.

consuming chills seep into the warmest crevices of my soul and

whenever i reach the sidewalk, i slip on the ice i didn’t see so i’m

suffocated.

no hat, no gloves, no jacket, no boots.

my shaking hands are numb, but i use them to shovel because

the rock salt sits miles away, miles away, millions of miles away.

i can’t see out my windshield, i can’t see out my windshield, i can’t see out my windshield

and powder flies off my car as i speed down the road

recklessly sliding to find warmth.

 

the weatherman always lies.

 

it was supposed to rain today but

all i see are clear skies, gentles breezes,

and the open arms of blooming flowers.