it's autumn again
and finding metaphor in seasons
is still so so pointless
but here i am under the spell of someone new
as the accident has it
it's autumn again and the temptation of colder weather
reigns upon me and i am happy
but as the days pass by unnoticed it appears to me all he wants
it to be wanted it is then i find myself
tucked into the days of this season
waiting for the next.
Satisfaction doesn't exist between pursed lips
and i may always wish for fall
but it's still just a little too hot,
so i pray for winter, but when she comes,
it's just a little too cold,
i hope for spring and the song birds to remind me
that it's okay, but when he comes
i just miss the snow.
When the bell rings on the last day of class
i crave the fall because summer makes me sick.
i'll never be satisfied, so if i can't search for satisfaction should i search for
contempt?
it's autumn again
and it'd be a lie to say that i'm used to being lonely even when i'm not
YOU ARE READING
The future has already past
PoetryWhile my mind urges me to write something more than I think I can be myself, I sit in my bed the light dimmed and music playing in the background trying to figure out why It's in this book that I will write more. I'm not even sure it matters. I'm...
