Poem during a hurricane. Irma, to be exact.

You made small talk for the first time since May. 

I felt sentiments of the aboriginal pull

You’d been to the institution I’d loved 

We planned to go together, you remember? 

That plan was long before I could conceive 

I’d hold more contempt for you 

Than I’ve felt for a breathing soul.

You broke me, for that I hate you. Remember? 

The rancor was new, now grown mundane 

It is easy to hate you I do not see

Yet your face was pained this night 

Your life, an impetuous romantic, the same. 

I remember. 

You, ever bound to your elations 

Sent me from my antagonistic perch

I know not the pain of such stagnation 
As you; bound to souls to steadily besmirch