you are a boring reflection

It's grey and when I wake up it is dark outside. I think on how the pantry is short on sunlight. There are corners in my bedroom that are always dark no matter how many lights I turn on; I lose things in them like socks and things that prevent me from getting damp in the rain. It feels like an incoming hurricane but I know it is quieter than that, and sweeter. There is no promised rain just a dark drizzle. This is what the world will feel like once we learn to control and conquer its unpredictability. I feel like a stagnant pond - static and souring without change.
Kissing you was like kissing a clouded mirror. It was vague and unsettling, passionless and ultimately forgiving. You echo me in a way that I do not enjoy, but have to admire. And you are sweet, very sweet, and kind. And in moments of unending dark drizzle you do not bring me shopping bags full of sunlight, but instead a book and for yourself a cup of tea. There is nothing radical about that, but comforting all the same. The day I learn to accept your words but refuse you my nights will be another one entirely.