By: Linda M Crate

september wakes
heavy on my bones
for all it’s golden beauty i am
always wound in
nightmares of you

because this is when you stole
a piece of my soul i’ll never get back
wish i could grab that girl by
the shoulders and tell her that you’re
just a fraying rope that’ll drag her down

to the deepest pit of despair
and whilst weeping willows are pretty
she can aspire to be much more
than a tree cast in the mold of mourning because
she shines brighter than the big sky,

but i guess she had to learn her worth;
so i could stand her now
being the warrior of love and light
set on destroying every nightmare and the monsters
as a consequence of this war of heaven and hell—

maybe one september i will wake
able to fully enjoy the full beauty of autumn
without the dark spell of your name
cast upon the brilliance of my dreams
remembering nothing but shadows that fade away.