i. cherry blossom trees on a winter feast

i paused on that evening

a few autumns ago, i say autumn

because the skies extolled the leaves

for they kept on turning green,

but were it not for the poles

and their tells, no one would have said

that it was red the color that should have

tainted the crescent dreams,

one of those evening in which i woke

amidst a fever fist with a thought

halfway done by the bedside

and grief lurking above me

one of those autumns in which

the sun incinerated cement streets,

one of those autumns in which the thirty-five

degrees waiting by the pavemented

meadows emasculated the wind

that should’ve been that of

an autumn sonata,

just to see you leave

ii. ignore things, all

i took different trains

every night

i bought even bigger clothes

at remote thrift stores, out of town

i still couldn’t escape

i was still there

and my

skin was so red from all the pulling

and trying to be someone else

i had to let the ivy grow

ABOUT:

A. Menaer is currently going through high school, somewhere in the heart of South America.

EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING: lightfmmusic — Thrift Store Clothes