Some Days (Or What I Do When I'm Bored At Work)
I live somewhere with seasons now and every time I think about you I stop myself. The leaves never changed when you were around. The heat pressed down on me until you could see everything: just how pale my skin was and the stretch of a scar over my shoulder. It is safe in my coat and my scarf, where I can keep myself together without you pushing all the parts of me against each other. You never really understood (you never really tried) why the flowers are so much more beautiful after they’ve been gone for a while. You were the all the time, the same all the time, making me sweat and burning the soft parts of my skin. Things are different now - thing are better when I can believe in autumn. And someday I won’t want your perpetual summer anymore.