Storm

 April,

 my quiescent leech has fallen back

 into familiar customs.

 And I, am his cheerleader- even after the endearment had vanished,

 even after the injure had gone.

 like oil longing water in it's lonely,

 the way alcohol beckons to gasoline for

 companionship - we were inseparable and

 a bough anticipating it's snap.

 he happened to be falling with his eyes open,

 but he wasn't to blame - he was drinking.

 A Second April,

 I always prayed for the water to come, it had been long due.

 I always prayed it'd splash away the feeling of vexation

 between us.

 What was anticipated was a soothing mist that would caress us and wipe our faces dry.

 Instead it was an unsteady downpour that had stricken my vulnerability.

 Who could I cry out to? Who could I blame?

 Not him. No, because he was shunned by the love he was promised - because he was drinking.

 Final April,

 To my silent songbird, I can't watch you

 die anymore.

 A cascade of renewal should've washed over you this month, you said,

 but it never came.

 Instead you poured the pure poison into your heart - and I watched it become your reality.

 I couldn't see the flaw all this time.

 To me, he was just drinking.

 One More April,

 All this time, you were yelling.

 You were yelling, but I couldn't' hear you.

 You were too busy drinking.

 And I cheered him on, my ultimate flaw.

 He was drinking, he drank, and he got drunk enough for three lifespans.

 Not only was he drinking, but he was drowning, and it was draining

 Watching him die for so long.

 This time it was his fault, but mine all as well.

 I buried him alive where he stood

 In a pool of rain water, where my quiescent leech

 could drink forever.

 Alone.