You were of summer, but I am of winter

the sun eclipsed the moon

and everything broke.


a bright light came and went soon

like a bulb bursting brightly,


and you flooded my vision.


a film on reel yet none of it real—

none of it tangible in my nervous hands.


your eyes winked at me in hues of teal

as those moments played over and over again


on a haunting repeat.


yet it was ecstasy and bliss

to see those days again—your eyes again


like a heavenly kiss

the joy spread through me from tip to toes


as I saw what we had.


the movie tied me in, feeding me sweets—

sweets so sickly and slyly saccharine


every frame bounced to the beat,

dancing to the summertime soundtrack


because that’s who you were.


you were a summer season of a person

with that all-controlling sun.


everything you said to me was cursive,

intoxicatingly slanted and specific.


and the heat held me.


your heat held me, helped me, healed me

as if hugged in jagged love.


you put a name to my nobody

and a comfort to my mind


but you were one with the time.


it was too good, I knew and I know,

but to let go was to admit


that you were the reason I was lit aglow—

you were the reason for that grin—


and that my joy was not inherently my own.


the days grew long and lonely

as your heat fell and faded,


for I didn’t know the me

outside of your cloudless skies.


your rapture was revered and so beautifully mine.


when that first sign of gust appeared—

that first sign of the dreaded end—


you slipped so silently away as I had feared

and did not care if I was the one to decay


with the flowers you had left me.


yet where you left fields of hope,

fields you had abandoned and axed,


I let my own scintillating snow and sleet elope

and eagerly embosom the land


for it was my time for a turn at the seasoned spirit.