too grey for september
sometimes i think i’m too grey for september
too hollow to be held in summer’s over-ripened embrace
like the last peach hanging from its branch by a thread
too sweet for its own good
i don’t think i’ve ever been this much of a stranger
to both the season
and myself
for when i squeeze my eyes shut
to force myself to sleep
i can never quite get past being painfully aware
of being painfully awake
because the nights have never been this light
and the days have never been this dark
- maybe i’m better suited for october
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