Rooftop

You spend your whole life trying to fall in love with someone until the minute you realize they make you unhappy.

Rooftops

 

It hurts to watch you fall from my arms
whether you fell out of love with love
or became less involved with the art of:

do you remember

when we slept on rooftops, beneath jet-lagged stars?

together, we emptied pockets of our past, 

lit cigars together -

telling hand-me-down stories one after another.

we were in love, despite our hope turning to rust.

we spent years lacking all things but charm...

the only thing left for us to do is argue.

we cuss out of turn, curl fists into hate,

but then with the scent of your rain-soaked skin,

we laugh until we sing and we sip on bottles of gin.

we make love beneath blankets, above homes

owned by people we hope to never meet

or become - to never be caught.

  

Reviews

[Dearantlers]

That's an interesting poem, but beautiful. Very well done.

[SilentVerses]

Beautiful, a truth in settling for the thing you craved for and yet once gorged you found you did not want, beautiful words and a flare of passion that though in a way wilts with the embers of a watered flame, emotions run parallel to your sentences as they morph and change the tunes of your melody. Love it.

[Homeschool]

From first to last line, this poem is beautiful. The pain and sadness in the first half of the piece is very genuine, accented by a perfect rhythm and form: subtle, but still prominent to have a solid structure.
You blend reality with fantasy so well, and some of the everyday things you mention speak for themselves, like the mentioning of rooftops and cigars.
I like the gradual crescendo of frustration, and then the way it vanishes with a mere sensation of "rain-soaked skin." It's as if the heavens opened up to pour a cooling, soothing sheet of water over the hot-headed lovers. The use of the rain's scent also suggests a primal physical urge that overtakes petty bickering. It was a great idea.
I also really liked your personification of the stars.
I could never possibly pick a favorite line, however. There's just too many. Bravo.