59. Here comes the season

Here comes the season,

reason as it changes from the previous ones,
do trees, forest, fall ever get viscerally hurt?
green is not always the colour of the grass if you let it bleed or burn,

broken but never held,
like a promise, like that grasp on these hands,
which on random Tuesday you decided to stop holding and leave,

Here comes the season,
It's all falling apart together again
this time, it's always cold outside, 7 degrees probably,
it's like I'm 15 but also 50,
snuggled up in my bed with a book,
I might might not have my phone beside me
but these days it always is, isn't it?

I stayed there motionless, for days,
forgiven and forgotten my mistakes,
guilty by law but never prisoned?
I was standing in that heavy pouring rain
as you walked off and never looked back again,
do trees, forest, fall, bleed viscerally too?
If it doesn't hurt in their gut?
If not then why do these clouds cry from heavens?

Here comes the season,
season of wildest sunshine days has begun,
I love you at the moment I don't know about next,
he says,
a little more than just friends,
Is it you? was it situational? was it ever true?
but I see god, I see pure, I see heaven,
he tells me,
it's wildest sunshine days of his youth,
where's the lie, what's the truth?
It's you who makes it all beautiful

Here comes the season,
this time, it's always cold outside, 4 degrees probably, 

the year I finally turned 50, 

snuggled up in my bed with a book,
I might might not have my phone beside me
but these days it always is, isn't it?