“Is there any other way, for you to forget him? For you to avert your feelings and lend it to someone who loves you too?” he asked.
She looked at him and said nothing. But then he waited. He waited until she stared down and slowly turned her back against him. He waited because he’s still hoping that she will look back and say something.
Someone once told me I reminded him of autumn. If people were seasons, I’d be falling leaves and the smell of wet wood. He said even my perfume reminded him of the earth. I suppose in a way he was right. Autumn always reminded me of sadness - the trees crying gold, the wind sweeping them off the ground like pretty little yellow butterflies. No matter how beautiful it looked, everything was sleeping, almost dead, or maybe dreaming. Sometimes I feel like I’m withering away, other times I feel like I’m drifting somewhere I could be alive again. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to the idea of someone saving me. Maybe one day I’ll find someone who would call me spring, instead.
Let’s lay and forget this whole worldly mess
now we entwine on this bed freshly made
and leave behind all that had us afraid;
slowly learning love’s not a game of chess,
as in this embrace our long sighs confess
every word we’ve so anxiously weighed
‘til only truth shines in the daylight’s fade
and the lone stars illume your falling dress.
Shyly, a crescent moon mimics your smile
and brightens the sky to match your eyes,
envious of how yours now beguile mine
for I had been her lover for a while;
longing to one time traverse the vast skies,
but heaven’s where earthly bodies entwine.
We often try to box ourselves into different categories, maybe because we want to understand ourselves better or perhaps because we are too lazy to explain our complexity to others. But, you know, it’s okay to be a discolored girl, to fit in the middle. Because as long as you are doing what’s making you happy, you are doing it right.