I left you broken and crying
That day that I left
On the inside I'm dying
Because of all I regret
I didn't want to just leave you
I didn't want to just go
But when life is calling
You can't tell her no
You stood there and cried
While I drove away stoically
I'm sorry it ended
I'm sorry I left
Just know if I could take it all back
It wouldn't happen again.

August, I start from one,
The door sounds against the tiles,
You start to leave your undenying presence
Stuck onto the frontlets of my thoughts.

Two, words were spoken few,
But a few human errors & one simple word
You correct my interpretation,
& now you start to interpretate my life.

Three, a fortnight has passed,
My heart embraces to your name,
But soon we will be set apart,
Now to cherish our last days.

Four, the end of August comes our end,
As the door sounds against the tiles again.
But now without you,
Without any interpretation or name.

Five, it's December now.
I'll be waiting & counting down to ten,
Until you come back,
& the door sounds once again.

From, the girl at the smallest corner of your memory.

I never thought August is a month of drought
The flowers that you gave me died of thirst
I put them in a box beneath my bed to keep your love for me

I never thought August is a month of rain
Perhaps you're crying and washing away the pain
Raindrops don't seem like a music to my ears anymore.

I never thought August would be this cold
So I sip an earl grey tea and read all the handwritten notes that you gave me

Now I realize it wasn't August that is cold - it's me.

It’s August and the big fat sun
Hangs in the sky.
It seems to be taunting me,
and I just want to cry.

Summer’s almost done;
thank god, it’s felt so long.
I just crave October,
when will it come along?

Born in Lion season,
though I feel more like a mouse.
So emotionally timid,
I’d rather hide in the house.

The sun’s streaming through the window,
taunting me still.
But I’ll stay put til October comes
with it’s familiar chill.

August wind
           comes
in waves.

It’s goal
           to rip leaves
                      off trees
           standing tall
                      against it.

It bellows out gusts,
           tearing away at flower petals.

The once calm church field,
                                                       a battle ground.
                      A harsh whisper war.
           But soon
           it will
whip away,
                                                             defeated.

Slamming doors 

Looking into mirrors with no results 

going back rather than letting go

Jittery hands and helpless goodbyes

Wishing for a quarter yet repeatedly receiving a dime 

Wondering when the time would come that you didn’t wish to die

Widening eyes and opening palms

Learning to stand but accepting the fall

Routines, repeat, redo, robust 

Repetition is what hides the rust

Too much smoke not enough air 

Inhale the breeze, exhale the year 

Drink up the bitterness 

Eat away the pain

Run it all off in a day

Start with a beat and end with a tune
August was a bunch of blues

The months of August
September
October
Give me warm feelings
Sweaters, falling leaves
The trees are slowly losing their color
Pumpkins, glowing bright in the night
And young children playing in the streets
Fall is beautiful

I remember the days
where we could laugh and play
in the middle of August.
Those days where the sun
had no bounds. We played

until we couldn't breathe, until
our voices were no more than
shallow sounds lost in the breeze
that carried them until they
lost meaning.

Looking back, I wonder when that day came.
When did those voices fall mute?
When did they die?

Or maybe, are they out there?
Still floating on the wind,
lofty clouds that will never rain?