i wonder why leaves are most beautiful, right before they fall - when the air is sharp with the promise of change and everything is flashing gold and deep red and crisp and everything is achingly temporary -
is it part of life's perfect design that we are made with creases on our hands and hollowed lungs and ears and mouths like we are born wounded-incomplete and wanting -
is it strange or sweet that grief, always seems to clutch love's hand a little too tight.
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
if we were to divide the world into a half so we both can cope with our separated souls, what would you want? the city we lived in for five years, the town we stopped by one night where we whispered our secrets, or the library where our eyes crossed over our favorite novel and we met.
if that is not enough for you, must i give you my favorite memories? you can keep the pictures, of you meeting a stray cat and your eyes twinkle in the sunlight, the fountain we fell into and were soaked in water but were in love, or when we asked a stranger to photograph us only to realize we had been smiling so wide looking at each other.
don't think i don't follow what you say now, what you post, who you write, like we were not the ones sitting on the same chair together and drawing the same breath. we are not the same people we were then, comparing the sun to each other's eyes, reading romantic poetry lines to start our morning alongside cups of tea, falling asleep lying next to each other on our old couch.
i miss you. do you miss me?
name: key/string/perks pronouns: she/her/hers and they/them/theirs
novel: the clocktower (camp nano apr 24) poetry: the beauty of the untold (napo 2024)
“And how shall I think of you?' He considered a moment and then laughed. 'Think of me with my nose in a book!” — Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
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