Cries and Echoes

Rainy Days

That day, the rain poured as if it were a reflection of your emotions. You sat on that bench in the corner with a faraway look in your beautiful green eyes. I stood a while back, heart sinking to the ground as I watched you look down at the cold marble floor; with a head that was normally held high, but was now probably drowning and spinning with doubt.

My heart ached for every tear that you shed. I yearned to wipe that stream from your face. I hoped to be the shoulder that you leaned on whenever you felt joy or grief. I wanted to keep you in my arms, and to hold you close until you realized how you, my dear, to me, were gold.

I wanted to, very badly so . . .

But how could I when you had your arms wrapped around another?