i. cherry blossom trees on a winter feast
i paused on that evening
a few autumns ago, i say autumn
because the skies extolled the leaves
for they kept on turning green,
but were it not for the poles
and their tells, no one would have said
that it was red the color that should have
tainted the crescent dreams,
one of those evening in which i woke
amidst a fever fist with a thought
halfway done by the bedside
and grief lurking above me
one of those autumns in which
the sun incinerated cement streets,
one of those autumns in which the thirty-five
degrees waiting by the pavemented
meadows emasculated the wind
that should’ve been that of
an autumn sonata,
just to see you leave
ii. ignore things, all
i took different trains
every night
i bought even bigger clothes
at remote thrift stores, out of town
i still couldn’t escape
i was still there
and my
skin was so red from all the pulling
and trying to be someone else
i had to let the ivy grow
ABOUT:
A. Menaer is currently going through high school, somewhere in the heart of South America.
EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING: lightfmmusic — Thrift Store Clothes