The lies I tell my lover

Open the window

Spring is outside.
I hear it in laughing
voices, lovers' steps
and stumbles,
catching
their breaths.

In the kitchenette
the lilies' leaves
turn goldenrod
from my apathy.
I make pitiful
excuses that leave
the sting of lye
against my tongue.

We need to replant
this winter soil,
salted barren
from un-seasonal
mood swings
and jungle gyms
like rocket ships.

Seed
cumulus clouds
on dark satin skies
that spread like my sheets
as I make the bed
we will lie in.

I think that if it rained
I would smile.