Monday, August 29, 2016

September is Whispering To Me

I'm here!
I tell the month.
But, alas, it is not quite yet here.

I try to make my words reach its ears.

But there is a day or two in between us/
like a wall/
separating us.

It'll be here soon.
September will come.

And I will be here.


Because that is what I do for people, for things, for what I love.
I wait.
I whisper back.
I hold on.
I wait.

I hear your whispers because I listen.
I am calling to you back,
though I know you can't hear me.

Don't worry, friend.

Because I am here.
And we'll see each other soon.

Then it hit me...

Am I waiting for September?
Or am I waiting for you?

Yellow sweeps over me like a daze and the streets bustle with voices of confusion and the bed I sleep in feels like eggs cracked and scrambled and he looks like a page from a book and it's okay because I like reading but every book has an ending and I don't always like the endings.

September, however, is a beginning and you could be too.

The wait smells like grace,
I'll bask in that like I bask in the sunshine I am breathing in.

September, come soon, love.
Come soon.

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