I desire to slew you with no fare well, as I sit back and wait for the breeze to fill my lungs ablaze for weeks on end. I want you to know; that it's not the disappointment that hurts, or the betrayal, it is the
wait is like autumn, and I am a trifling sycamore leaf that dries and crackles under your feet.
when you call me from beyond the night sky I no longer feel guilty to have the urge to say - 'I have the right to choose.' I was once viridescent I thought my beauty is perennial, fresh. I can be sanguine, I can be valorous, I can be righteous, I can be obstinate, I can be cider and still be eye-catching, I can be me...
But I can not be anguished.
I don't allow the drew drops to tumble, today I caught three on the sleeve of my amazon coating; biting my veins to fight the pain, with neverending pain. Dear September, a portion of me knows that I am susceptible but those "what ifs" remembrances from before creates a cacophony of noises louder than my sight can decipher.
You aren't even gone yet,
I still flinch as soon as the bees buzz, It is hard to swallow the accusations as I have to crave per- mission to be happy. I make sure I leave no dust on your tombstone, I even carry a herbicide; named insecurities, as you pass by like any other month I want you to know that I'm still searching