and i knew you were a truth i would rather lose

[ashyrawrrawr]

sometimes i'll think of you
on a bench in the middle of june's joyous sun rays beating down
and on a biting, stinging storm in the midst of November
where i can hear the
drip drip drip
bearing down on my foggy window

sometimes i think of you
every other season
ill at the thought that we're not who we say we are
frightened that the memory will slash
again and again
through my vapid, silly heart
like a violent whip against someone
who just doesn't know
to shut up

sometimes i think of you
and it's curious
because these thoughts come every other season
like a common cold,
that you get every so often

sometimes i'll be sitting on a bench in june
and in my room on an angry vengeful novemember
and think
where i could get some cold medicine