NOVEMBER RAIN

It's November again. One year since we last kissed.

We used to be puppets whose strings got attached every time our eyes met. Puppets that came to life every time our lips kissed. The feeling of freedom would drive us to do crazy things, things that we would never do in our perfectly controlled daily lives. Things we did and then we would regret.

The things we didn't do are now the ones I regret the most.

As a puppet I didn't have a heart in me, but when you came my way I could feel it aching for you. Though it wasn't love, -puppets can't love. Your kisses awoke me, made me feel special, different, unique. To me, you were special, different, unique. Left to our own devices we would toy with each other as if there was no tomorrow, until someone pulled our strings back to place.

It's been a year since you left me in my bed. You left and never looked back. You decided to avoid my way so that our strings would not intertwine. Puppets can't feel, but it hurt every time you stepped back.

Emptiness filled the space where my heart had once grown.

It's been hard for me to follow your puppet show once a week. So close and so far away, jealous of all the Judys that surround you on the show, jealous of all those girls in the audience. The pain is so strong as to break me inside.

It's November again. One year since we last kissed. I see you in pictures and I don't know who you are anymore. I see myself in the mirror and I don't know who I am anymore.

Just a broken puppet.