Seasons shift. They come, they allow you to experience them, and then they leave. I'm beginning to believe love is a lot like a season. In the middle of August it may feel like summer lasts forever, but it doesn't. It will turn chilly, then cold. And just when you believe that cold and empty winter will be eternal, a new spring comes and the blossoms of love once again appear. And so the cycle repeats, eternally it seems. Just as I can't stop the weather, I am unable to stop the love. As long as I breathe I will love, I will grieve. As long as i breathe... as long as I breathe... however long that may be..
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Incongruity
PoetryThis is where I will put my poems about my experiences. I just want somewhere to store them. If they resonate with someone, then I'm glad to have at least been a voice of familiarity in a world that feels so full of solidarity. Also I usually only w...
