Here

On a stormy Sunday,
when I'm eating chocolate kisses
{which remind me
of the feeling I get
when it rains}
I paint my nails with pink and hearts--
like varnished love, really,
shiny like lightning.

Or maybe glass.

And I remember that I like
to wake up next to you
with you breathing heavy in my hair.
It's much better when
the sky is gray--
because then, you see,
I don't have to remember
how blinding the world is.
And there's nothing to hear
but thunder--
like dragging boxes full of books
and mementos and things.

Who knows, truly?
The rain is plummeting
to the trees,
and all I really know is that
sunlight is too transparent
and everyone is looking
through it.

Yes, like glass.