Apologies.

They say that if seasons were mortality, then autumn would be death while spring would be life, and I’ve always believed it with all my heart but it’s spring now, with flower buds starting to bloom and smiles and laughter all around, so why does it all seem like a death sentence to me, why does every sweet scented flower smell poisonous and every giggle sound like a choke for breath, why does the moonlight fail to pacify me and the thunder not lull me to sleep?
Is it the seasons, or is it me who has changed?
Or is it, rather, your absence which eats away at my core faster than the seconds it takes to crush a honey bee and send it to its death?
I’m scared and I’m a mess, I miss you, my dear, but above all I miss my spring, it was never my favorite of the seasons, no, but I need it to thaw this frozen heart before it’s too late, can you please come back?

I never learnt how to do this, how to let go of someone who was never mine to begin with.
I’m sorry.


Image credits: Billy Kidd

 

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42 thoughts on “Apologies.”

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