You asked me why I try to ruin everything.

When I did not understand your question, you snared me by the arm to present me before the unrecognizable interiors of your ribcage, sprawled among a wilting bed of arnicas. I remember distinctly the arnicas, with their bloodstained yellow crowns, because you showed them to me once when you managed to induce the both of us with poison. Your heart remained beating on the silent earth.

You asked me the question again, and this time we both looked up. We were standing beneath an abysmal void of blue that seemed hollow without the presence of a cloud. The Sun was at its threshold above us, presently waiting on its celestial throne to shine bleak light upon its absent subjects. It all seemed awfully picturesque in our eyes. This you pointed out to me in enraged bursts of spits.

 For I knew how much you loved overcast weathers. I knew how much you loved thunderstorms; how it pleases you to watch the skies grace the earth with relentless whips of lightning, scarring your world, berating it with clamors of thunder that always seem to resemble a cacophonous orchestra of kettledrums. I knew how, when the clouds begin to roll, you would push me aside like a piece of furniture and escape from our embrace, only to run outside and thank the rain for offering you solace in light of all your sufferings. I had known all of this, for I have engraved your entire intricacy in the veins that intertwined across the backs of my palms.

So why have I come to spoil everything for you? If I had loved you, why did I ask the storm to cease, and for the Sun to exhaust its futile rays on the two of us?

And you were the cave that sheltered us both from the very same storm you loved. When the seas grew tumultuous, you were the tormented waves that swept inside of our safe, drowning us in the engulfing darkness with your malevolent tides.

We were both left afterwards in an unsightly wreck. You told me that I had done enough – it was time for you to leave. Exhaustion and the pathetic remains of my love for you kept me rooted in my position. I have learnt better than to interfere.

You left, saying you needed a place of your own to grow. You were tired of these long summers.