#revision?

“How does Shakespeare present ideas about Death in Romeo and Juliet?”

“How does Stevenson present Utterson as a reliable narrator in Jekyll and Hyde?”

me, sitting in the exam hall:

I had you, I watched you walk away.

In the autumn, I saw your face in front of my own

For the very last time.

I held you in my arms, then you departed

To a different timezone,

Void of myself.

I had you in the winter, we withered away.

You see, in the distance

Broken trust broke all the more.

By winter’s arrival, you were no longer mine.

I mourned your loss for a week,

But you returned for hopeless love’s sake.

I told you, “give me time”

And so, you did, hopeful of our future.

I had you in the spring, I could’ve sworn.

We were blooming, I could’ve sworn.

Every restless night ended

In your comforting voice,

Melodic buds in my ear

That blossomed flowers in my head

And filled my psyche with honey-sweet,

Daisy-scented daydreams.

All the while, a winter’s baptism

Did its work inside of me.

I grieved our impossible future

While you were still in front of me,

But how could I let you go?

I finished spring without you.

I felt a baptism fade away and only you

Consumed my thoughts.

I thought of you, day-in and day-out.

I danced in your absence,

in a dress you should’ve seen.

I entered new chapters of life,

imagining your pride.

I had you in the summer, in make-believe of course.

I knew the voice in my head ought to be the Lord,

But it was you. Even in your absence,

You told me to eat, to rest, to laugh.

Your memory kept me warm.

Somewhere, in the midst of summer,

I fell in love again.

That was always the point if you and I had to end,

To engulf myself in the word of God.

I finally felt that summer sun beaming down on me,

But the salty breeze stung my eyes.

Somewhere in my bittersweet journey,

In the spring I spent delusional of your disappearance,

You had already unloved me.

Well seasons are just that, aren’t they?

I will allow summer to do its work in me.

I will not have you in the autumn,

Not in daydreams or delusions.

In the autumn, I will reap a harvest

Born of withered trees

And dead flowers

And a stinging wind.

Perhaps I will comment on the fact

That it’s been a year since I last saw you,

And perhaps I will tear up at the loss of a good friend.

But I will not mourn you anymore,

For I already will have.

In the autumn, I will not have you,

And I will lack nothing.