The Seasons Of Us


Summer with you was like
tea with honey

you were hot, and your words
sticky, sweet syrup,

that I gladly gulped.

We were so eager
we burned our tongues on


that smelled like lilacs
or lavender,

I can never remember which.

Then autumn came with its
cool breeze and

we settled into the rhythms
like quiet rainfall,

you were gentle
and steady.

We were comfortable,
tucked under the blankets

of lies that whispered
“this is good,”

“it will be alright.”

Then winter.

She arrived with
icy fingers,
pulling back the covers,

we were exposed.

Darling, my scars were showing,
and you ran.