sometimes I throw the book across room

in protest of missing you

~sometimes I throw the book across the room in protest of missing you~
               written by ~Minja~


the wind
is kind to my hair
this September

it knits a perfect shawl
around my neck
hiding all your kisses
and soft whispers
I wore proudly
through August

this is
what French autumn feels
I say in awe
but it is the same
everywhere I go

the wind moves
with me
and through me

sometimes
when I read upstairs
it flips through
this memory book
and pins down the pages
where my heart
has a purpose

golden and intimate
they smile at me
in their early morn
floral gowns

while I mourn those
slipped under your door
when I forgot how to write
and you to read

sometimes I think
my books are mocking
the memory of you
and I throw one
across the room
in protest of missing you

nothing puts me
to sleep either
like your breathing once
did
none of these clouds
we laughed at
in August

I am paper-weight
with this body
now
and like kite
drift in the air
as you still hold
the string
________________________________

There is something strange with being heartbroken in Autumn.