september
you crawl into my chest, settling there, and time resets again.
the leaves change colour and once again, i am left with just my hands. i never feel as alone as i do this time of year. in the green turning orange i can see myself a year ago, two years ago, a year into the future. a collection of selves, all compressed into this month of september.
i don't know how to get better, i want to tell you. i don't know what to do with my hands. i want to brandish a knife, to reach in and extract you myself.
nothing is still enough. the wind kicks up the leaves, moves the sky, leaving me unable to settle. the wildness of summer yet to die down. i let my face be cradled by the sun and yearn for the stillness that winter brings.
i miss you. i miss you always. the ever-encroaching early darkness makes it harder to push your memory away. and so you settle in my chest again, and i let you. and so the clock turns back, again