i loved you first.

weeping comes from sweeping,
or maybe they just go together.
because e v e r y t i m e i sweep this under the rug
i find myself at a loss.
call me a dumb-baby if you want, but when i lose
my eyes become like a giant faucet,
and i cannot turn it off
and i cannot control the giant water streaming down
and i cannot see what i'm s(weeping) anymore!
so you see, it all gets left behind.

but then when i drain out,
and am able to once again hang hydrangeas from the window,
i begin to admire the sun all over.
if i'm lucky, i dance in its tentacles.
ALAS:
this fades.
something makes me shiver.
i pull the shade down in the windowframe,
which knocks the flowers to the ground,
crushing the delicate, perfectly nice blooming bud.
and again, i sweep.