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Poetry
nostalgia

"nostalgia" - 2/14/04

my season is autumn
though I loathe the wind
rattles my confidence
chills my thick skin
still with its fiery
palette of trees
autumn reminds me
how bravely love leaves

leave him before he
gets more than the best of you
leave him before he
believes you are won
leave him before he
unravels the parts of you
no one has seen
often as you have run

my color is orange
though I fear the sun
bludgeons my faith
with the force of a gun
unrelenting in its
nostalgic hue
orange reminds me
hopelessly of you

leave him before he
gets more than the best of you
leave him before he
believes time is earned
leave him before he
confesses to parts of you
no one has known because
you've always turned

my arrow is crooked
though I hate to miss
it quivers 'gainst clouds
tragically targetless
still I'm alive with the
light of the new
crooked reminds me

mostly now of you