My Life as a Poem

When the rain showers its gloom, As if to wash away the pain. Would roses bloom? Again and again. Like when peaches and apricots blush with time, Like when you call me by your name, and I call you by mine, Like when Alexander's lover, Hephaestion, died, And lastly, when my riverbed has finally dried. When I sing, “It's all I think about when I'm behind the wheel, I worry this is how I'm always gonna feel, But nothing lasts, I know the deal.” You said, “Nothing lasts, I know how it feels.” When all of this doesn't really make sense, You took away the “not” instead. It makes me wonder: does the rain really cleanse, The love I've buried, six feet under my bed.