“The Summer sun was not meant for boys like me and you.
Boys like us belonged to the rain.” -Benjamin Alire Saenz
Autumn to me, is the season of us:
Unmade duvets, blanketing
Cool shadow and petrichor.
Grounding and welcome. Alive.
Misspelt names on carefree coffees.
Train trip adventures. Nothing feels real;
A wash of memories I can’t recall.
I felt content to feel so.
When I was with you it was Autumn.
Spring-born leaves falling in a rush, so thrilling to see.
Like the butterflies in my stomach, finally allowed to see the sun.
When you’re not around I’m cold. Numbed.
--
You don’t remind me of Spring.
Spring is not a love that I could share, for
A time of prosperity- I toiled to grow,
Secure in a way that transcended loneliness.
Ripe, I was mine to let go and
I let you pluck; rooted deep down,
No matter how ripe the fruit, it falls raw all the same.
We longed for the fleeting sweet taste.
Aren’t the most tragic fates always the most beautiful?
Does pain make the product sweeter?
You must be left in the cold to be warmed again. And
No amount of burning in the Summer can soothe the Winter woe,
--
As Autumn comes, I curl up alone.
Aching in the comfort of corners, the arms of shadows,
I’m not numb. I wish I was. I’m trying to be.
Now it’s the season to drink and to think and
To fabricate ****** little rhymes
Alone, like I feel I’ve fabricated you.
In the early hours of the morning,
Why I can’t face another new day to taint.
Clinging desperately to book-romance so I might be lost in the pages-
Envious of the securely typed warmth that melts my molten heart.
Contorted to watch scary films, so I might feel anything but myself.
Cutting beautiful music straight through my ears.
Praying, begging to be carried off,
By the adrenaline, as my heart races,
To the cliffs and the call of the sea and the spray.
Nowhere will ever feel free enough from you.
--
All the leaves have fallen.
My fruit and life has wilted and withered.
Roots writhing, doubled over in choked sobs.
But it’s not your fault, I know that.
My trees are bare for a Winter.
I can’t even wear that hoodie anymore-
It holds too many memories,
Of duvet cuddles, Of blanketing, cool dark and petrichor.
Of a boy who never even wore it.
Of a boy I meet in my mind.
Of a boy more radiant, more loving, more nurturing than any Summer I’ve ever known,
That could never keep me warm himself.
Maybe we were not meant for Summer.
Maybe I was fated for the moon,
Just out of your reach.
A perfect pair eclipsed in the wrong time.
Maybe this is just our Autumn.
We fell in love in October,
And I know you didn’t mean to,
But you broke my heart in fall.
