I come alive in the fall time.

In October, especially.

Sun-kissed sky. 24 km bike rides. Saturated landscapes.

For a few weeks each year, we all live it.

summer is here, but I

am not

amidst the blooms and the opening petals

I wither

I hibernate

I want to learn about love, so teach me

I think I believe in guardian angels. 

Last night, when I was lulling myself

to sleep with images of being

plastered to the cement 18 floors

below, I did not think that happiness

could possibly ever be attained. 

Somehow, I arose, still alive and breathing, 

made my way down 18 floors the safe way, 

the normal way, the way everyone else does. 

Cold and blistery, snowflakes like fat lumps 

of depression falling from a heaven that 

humans dreamt up so they could feel better

about dying. Uncertainty terrifies. 

The bus stopped, full as always, but today, 

something happened, that made me look at the snow

like dreams floating through the world and into

our mouths. A kind bundled lady, I could not

see her face, stood up from a seat and motioned me

toward it. This is normal, the way that everyone does it,

but today, something different. A warm hand 

squeezed my arm. Her hand. Gratitude. Butterflies floating

between us. I’d forgotten what it’s like

My body

betrayed me

muscles shifted overnight

wrapped around the folds of you

over you, in between you

I couldn’t get enough of you

morning arrived and so did the realization

that what my body wants 

don’t worry about it

our road ends here

four years later 

your words have reappeared

sword to scar

the wound reopened

what I’ve stitched up 

has been re broken

as anonymous 

as you would have wanted it 

stealth and surprise

revealing your cowardice 

hate to admit

that those 31 letters

caused my chest to expand

my sorrow to fester

for a moment in time

I seemed to believe

I was seventeen again

had just been deceived

brought back to the month

when you killed who I was

reached into my blood stream

poisoned our love

I look into your eyes

a different shade of dirt

awaken from the nightmare,

I bury the hurt

It was all a bad dream,

those years of seventeen,

when all I did was scream, 

when all I wanted