Behind my Moschino shaded eyes, I’m terrified today. I’m alone in the garden, it’s spring and my birth month though spring hasn’t always been a friend. I’ve known spring as a liar and with each new bloom spring has whispered promises it would always break.
As I smoked one of his cigarettes out of my bedroom window, I couldn’t help but find myself in secret contemplation…
Was this love?
Did he love?
Had all these lost years been some kind of cosmic lesson?
Or was he just like the deceiving spring, evoking emotions that would never see fruition?
I discarded both my thoughts and the finished cigarette out of the window and closed it.
Pour another glass. Pour another glass.
The next morning, he pulled me in closer, held me tighter and kissed my naked shoulder, his warm breath on my neck felt like home, he couldn’t see my face, but I was smiling. Outside the sun was rising, the world was waking, and Spring was laughing.
So today as I sit alone in my garden, Moschino shaded eyes and spring morning air in my lungs, I am terrified, terrified of spring and all it brings, terrified of the whispers I’m surrounded by and so I’ll sit, forever waiting for the Summer.
The Life And Death Of Love 