This long month
lingers
unwilling to loose its deadly grip.

Or is it because there is still a flower to bloom
its magenta glory
to wash away
or dilute
the sadness
of this month’s decaying days?

life has seasons
and I am not a flower
I am a tree
with changing colors
shedding it's leaves

Lightly upon each cheek
Alternating pleasantry
Undulating symmetry
Reeks of season’s revelries
Every neurone, every pore
Never fading, never more

tried to make plans
but there's no time to meet anytime soon

searched for ways to pronounce love
still can't say it right

we've sat in different laundromats
side by side

this time you didn't have any coins
all I could do was laugh