She cried at night
And smiled in the morning
She looked happy
But I knew how it was
All just a ruse

I knew the lies and truths
The virtues and faults
The tears behind the smile
The darkness of her thoughts

She was sick
Sick of how the world treated her
Sick because her heart worked
She loved the same way I did:
Unrequitedly

Do you ever become an adult
and the little things get
drowned in the work,
the responsibility,
the fear

and you know that
again
you're burning out?

But then,
suddenly,
you
remember

nostalgia hits!

the warm fuzzies
drown the work,
the responsibility,
the fear

that one thing

it's back

you try
you try to hold on

in the middle of success
it fades

you know it's slipping out of your hands
out of reach

you know
it's gone

it was an illusion all along
you've grown up

In the dead of Décembre¹, resided an elegant Accentor² dressed in all the hues of a fresh pumpkin. His rotund chest of tangerine could be spotted instantly among the frost laden branches of his bark-made household.

Throughout harvest, his henna back was effortlessly disguised amidst the fallen leaves of autumn. He was often found solemnly reviewing the state of the abundant acorns while the slight breeze lifted his earnest feathers.

Across warm season, his amber spots shined as radiantly as the sun when he floated to a near pond for a drink. The abounding dragonflies derived delight from boastfully gliding to and fro above the glittering water. Warmth lingered in the limelight as long as it could.

Along the cherry blossoms of spring, the top of his emerald head often appeared in a scene of expected triumph once he took in his mouth  a bit less than the recommended daily dose of crimson berries left in the grass from winter.







_________________­__
Décembre: December
Accentor: a type of small bird in the genus Prunella

You say a few words
I get it
I notice those things

they give me fear  and  hope
and only give you fear

I know you're always put in the back
in the dark
you don't ask for light
And I don't really know why
but I do

I ask for answers
optional, of course
You are always generous
always willing

why give
and regret?
Is it really regret?

after your scars spill
you tell me you wish you never let them

I know you
and I don't